Somedays…

Somedays, I want to write.

I want to write about the many wonders of life that exist beyond my four walls –of the air-conditioned, monotonous office buildings.
I want to write about the struggles of the fruit-seller on the streets, or the bus driver’s mental state while navigating through the most crowded routes of Bangalore.
I want to write about the dreams and aspirations of the artist who sits next to me, his crafts waiting their turn as his mind is busy, engaged on the screen for hours together.
I want to write about my dreams – those that I’ve conquered and the many that are left unsaid and unknown – awaiting their chance in the shadows like specs of dust floating around – not knowing if they will keep wafting about or find a place to call its home.
I want to write about the freedom that the wind experiences – as it breezes across oceans and swarms through cities, gliding gleefully atop mountains, and plunging restlessly down into the valleys. I want to listen to its thrilling stories of people encountered, of animals fierce and friendly, of its rendezvous with trees, colorful flowers, and broken leaves, of billowing for hours on treacherous territory until it’s found its way to me – oh the stories untold!

Somedays, I want to write.

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Another day in the city

What are the odds of starting your day with a  compliment about your writing, to progressing through the day explaining why you cannot commit to a book, to finally indulging in a stimulating conversation with Author beloved to culminate a long day’s work, inspired to do some writing at least.

Yep, the odds are few indeed and I cannot even recall what led me to this moment. I may seem over excited about a small interaction but I cannot believe I just shared the room and even spoke to Mr Amish Tripathy, author of the best-selling Shiva Trilogy. (It irked me in a manner of sorts to see that on stage best and selling were not separated with a hyphen.)

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Even with selfies and pics, a meeting with your Favorite author is usually incomplete without their autograph. #OldSchoolThoughts

Like most of the things that I love, my tryst with Shiva began in a weird way. My two besties from school gifted the first two editions of the trilogy on my Birthday and I had mixed feelings about them. Sure I had seen hoardings and Crossword best-seller lists but nothing had piqued my interest and I stayed away from chatter about the Nagas.

When I finally began the odyssey of finding evil with Shiva, it was a beautiful journey that shattered some pre-conceived notions and amalgamated myths into a seemingly believable story. The characters were sketched so beautifully that I was soon propagating them to my relatives. I remember indulging in a debate with them when I took a moment to marvel that I felt so passionately about this, if  only I felt the same about what I was studying back then – engineering.

Anyway, today when I rushed to the National Gallery ofModern Art, I was berating myself for not having left office earlier. I reached in time to catch Amish discuss how Shaivites tend to be slightly anti-elitist.

Some habits die hard and soon I was taking notes in my little orange journal. The topic then shifted to the observation that myths in India are alive despite there being a mix of different cultures and traditions. The author remarked that one of the reasons why this happened is that old stories have been re-invented and delivered in a new bottle of wine.

That’s perhaps the main reason that several myths have survived till date and with every passing generation, there will be more additions to that list. The interest in our history and culture is being revived slowly but surely.

A person in the audience had a brilliant question – he asked why Indian people were not as accommodating as our neighbours. To this Amish quoted a small incident from the Mahabharata during the battle, in the field. He spoke about the instance when Arjuna fired an arrow on Karana’s chariot and as a result, it moved leagues away from their original position. When Karana fired an Arrow at Arjuna’s chariot, it only ended up moving a few feet but Krishna commended his opponent. This angered Arjuna and he was keen to know why. That’s when Krishna had to elucidate the importance of context. The chariot that seated Arjuna also had to bear the weight of Krishna (the lord himself) and Hanuman. If Karana’s arrow could cause any displacement at such a heavy vehicle – was it not something to bemarveledd at?
This is a life lesson – every time you judge a person, you have to look at all their circumstances. You cannot make a comment without understanding the true depth of these things.

It would not be wrong to state that our 200 years of colonial experience has shattered our country’s morale to a great extent and caused intensive damage to the cultures of our society however, change is in the air and by actively fighting and believing in who we are, we can herald this change.
Schools here study Shakespeare and O’Keats instead of understanding out own legacy of Gibrail, Rumi, or Mirza. Our own gems are foreign to us. What use is studying the American andFrench Revolution, the Queen who was despised by many, and of wars that plagued the world, if we do not know our own roots?

Did you know that a lot of Persian history was wiped off mainly because the Arab invaders took some stringent measures wherein they punished people who spoke or wrote Persian. That is why it is said that culture can be killed by killing a language.

On the whole, it was a remarkable session wherein I got insights from two other interesting people. I got an autograph from Amish and managed to get a photo as well. Oh yes.

 

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Yeah, we’re all smiles!

I loved the sheer positivity exuding from him and grateful to that one moment of destiny when I chanced upon this event and decided to go.

 

What I take away from Mumbai will be these insightful little discussions and memories that will remain with me long after the beer in your mug is over.

Here’s to more of my kinda fun.

Thoughts…

You remember those pretend games that you played in childhood? Building forts made out of sheets, cushions, empty boxes and myriad shades of your mom’s dupattas and sarees? At some point in time, every one of us usually has played such games where you pretend you’re living in a small universe of your own, a cocoon in the seeming vastness of your home.

Who said they were restricted to childhood? Look around you and you’ll still see walls, albeit they are invisible. Everybody has walls. Some may admit it and some won’t but they are usually there, lurking in a strange anticipation of forbearance – one wrong move from your side and they’ll slide back in place faster than you can say walls.

Why do we have walls?

I’m no expert on psychology and I probably have the worst clairvoyance when it comes to predicting people. Can say that with some experience – the people whom I thought I’d never get along at first meeting, are the ones who’ve become imperative to my survival. Of course, at the end of the day you’re all alone but then there are fleeting seconds when these people, they just make your day. They make you feel so genuinely alive – it’s a marvellous feeling what people bring on in each other.

Oh, walls. Basically, they are to protect the tender hearts from the harsh existence of reality.

As I type this, I’m sitting in my own fort – obscured from plenty of prying eyes, I’ve converted my balcony into a mini fort. It feels pretty amazing and I can hear loud music with great tempo – too bad the grounds are so dusty. I nearly sneezed a large furball of dust after having temporarily jumped to the DJ’s tune. I realised that I was not able to capitalise on the moment wholly. Hey, to think about it, during the crappy engineering days when we had those weird holidays called fests (True to its name, Swayam was only attended by swayam us college dwellers, nobody else bothered to travel to this derelict location in the outskirts of Bangalore, a mile away from the jewel of the city – the first famous IT Park of Bangalore), there was a barricade placed to allow either of the genders to dance on either sides. Right, so much for living in the modern world.

I’ve often wondered whether under normal circumstance as you are overtaken by thoughts that may not seem related, would there ever be a period of blank? Yes, meditation seems to be the perfect answer to this. But I’m not looking to consciously streamline them. Let your thoughts flow and you will realise that everything eventually connects and you’re off leagues away from the inception. Yes, now you understand the randomness of this post?

 

Time will tell, or will it?

I’m sitting in the middle of the playing field. There’s a cricket match going on ahead of me and there are enthusiasts flying kites behind me. I’m caught in a pensive mood. The kite flies over me and a tiny bird flies with it too. It looks beautiful, a perfect evening.
There’s a lot of work to be done but I’ll just strategize now. The effort will be put at the nth moment.

The guys flying the kites are so happy.

Now I know why. The whee-whee got to me and I joined in the hullabaloo. Getting a kite high up is a difficult job but once it’s up, it’s simply amazing. I held the quivering string in my hand and it felt so liberating. Ironic because the kite is bound to me and I’m not letting it free really. If you think about it, that’s rather sad. However, let’s leave it at the liberating bit. Don’t want to get too caught up now, do we?

It’s been close to a week since I got back to college and I’m food sick. The feeling of blah-ness that you get when you look at the mess menu, you cannot understand it unless you experience it and so I went to the city yesterday to quench my thirst for a tender coconut. Yell-neer or nariyal pani has been an organic comfort food for me from the very beginning.

My association with this goes back a long way when I was about 6 years old. I lived in the south end of Bangalore then and there was a strong, hefty woman who would hack mercilessly at the edges of a big coconut and offer the sweetest ones to me. It was 7 bucks back then, a far cry from what it is today. It’s safe to say that I was

It’s safe to say that I was happily addicted and loved both, the sweet drink and the artistic way in which hewed it. Why, at some point, before flying back to Saudi, I remember telling Dad that we must explain to the lady, why we won’t be back for our daily routine for a long time. Dad was pretty alarmed, he obviously didn’t think it wise to disclose personal matters to strangers. I didn’t understand it back then, why not? Don’t you think she’d miss her regular customer I wanted to ask.I’d become so like him some day.

How was I to know that this is a life learning… You rarely say goodbye to people, some just drift away and you’re left with a quivering string..

I’m not here to talk about the benefits of tender coconut really. I just needed to get some stuff out of my head. There’s enough entertainment in it to last me a while. I just dreamt that Reya had flown off to Iceland and was enjoying the blissful locales at -18 degrees celcius. Yeah, who remembers details like that?

I haven’t read a book since the new year began and I’ve been suffused with a lot of strange thoughts. Changing relationships, inexplicable feelings, un-called for sentiments…Perhaps its is true that you only think so much when you are in a deep and seemingly un-intellectual stage, aka, the stirrings of depression.

I love the mornings here. I don’t normally pray but when I see the sun rising here, the horizon becomes so beautiful that a prayer of gratitude usually comes into my mind before I know what has happened.

It’s a great place to be… but this boat too will be rocked. Sooner than I think, or later… things will evolve. At that time, how strong will I be? How will you cope?Only time will tel.

How will you cope with changing environs and unsteady tides?

Perhaps time may tell…

 

 

 

Musings on a mellow morning…

Love.
Oft defined, frequently abused, and commonly misrepresented, love is a continually confounding phenomenon. What remains clear is that neither you nor I are qualified to attempt to comprehend it. Why then am I writing this post?
I’m just amazed at the audacity of hope. When it comes to love, it’s seemingly boundless.

I’ve known people who’ve loved, moved on, repented, and also those who pine for that one meaningful relationship that would allow them to experience life in an unparalleled universe. (That instance when a couple in a relationship ceases to acknowledge the world around them as they slip into an abyss of their own.)

Depending on how you like your glass, love can be the most significant thing in your world or it can be a load of codswallop. And it’s fair to say that the biased perceptions and experiences of the same can lead you to either of those trajectories.
It’s my observation that someone who’s been blighted by a lover has so much angst that neither do they see joy in the other’s happiness nor do they aim to find it in their own living, often using it as an experience to build walls around them. They often remain in a rut, their demeanor wary, with a relentless desperation. A wave so deep, it’s strong enough to rock people from their carapaces.

 

It’s funny how I can write about the most random things when what I really have to do is constructive utilisation of the most entity in the world—time. Yes, I’ve an assignment to work on. But I keep having these disparate thoughts that do not let me be. 

Eudaimonia was a take away from my first lecture out here at SIMC and it keeps me going strong. That and will power. I’ve to constantly remind myself about how lucky I am. Did I mention I saw a shooting star? My first! That was during my initial days here. Picture a calm breeze and a bunch of people singing under the open sky during a brief power outage and then that euphoric sighting. ❤

Now that I’ve let my thoughts flow into the pensieve, perhaps it is time to get back to the assignment. After all, there’s only so much philosophy that either of us can take.

Image References:

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Love thy Lexicon?

Hey!

I’m back after a short hiatus with something slightly unusual for this blog. So far I’ve written about traveling,people and random emotions. Today I’m going to delve into another past time of mine, lexicology.

Now for the unassuming folk, a lexicon refers to the vocabulary of a language. So a lexicologist studies words, their nature and meaning. I’m just an amateur but it fascinates me that there is a word for everything and We only have to find it.

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So here are a few words that I found awfully interesting and I wanted to share it for ‘the greater good’. (pun intended)

What I’m doing with my blog or why I even have one can be summed up in just one word!

“Catharsis.”

The process of shedding intense memories or emotions by expressing them through writing or art. (And here I thought I was being poetic, talking about monsoon, nature and people! )

 

“Ombudsman.”

When I first came across this word, I was reminded of Enid Blyton’s Omnibus! (A compilation of all her great work). But an Ombudsman has no connection to collection.

He or she, in fact, is an appointed official whose duty is to investigate into the complaints against companies or government departments.

 

“Cinephile.”

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An enthusiast of films and cinema. (Read me).

I have watched an obscene number of films on the big screen in the four years since I started engineering. It would be a huge fiasco If I were to reveal the number at home. But more on that later.

 

“Gargantuan.”

Now this isn’t as unique as the others but I couldn’t resist sharing it because when I first read it without paying close attention, I managed to get it to rhyme with Orangutan! Not very unlike the animal, the word symbolizes something that’s huge, immense or tremendous!

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“Critter.”

Now this one is just cute! How can you resist not using this word? Consider it an endearment to creatures.

 

“Orology.” clip

Now I cannot see how knowing this would do you any good. But for those of you who love heights, perhaps the study of mountains would be a good past time.

 

“Pontificate.”

To lecture instead of just stating an opinion.

This is what my Brother did when I passed a snide comment about Manchester United. And no, I do not care who wins the damned match!

 

Now without pontificating too much, I’m going to sign off and listen to a “gamut” of soulful music.

*Gamut-means a wide range of something.

P. S.

Twinks! Thanks for the gamut of words 😀

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