Thursday, June 28

The Prodigal Son

Maa, i have your feathers
but i have different wings
You have given me my voice
but i have a different song to sing.
For the ones who know your eyes,
they say my eyes are yours ,
you have shown the world to me
now i want to see beyond.
I have a different vision, Maa
i hope you could see,
my point of being alive
is being limitless and free.
You have given me your life,
in ways i cannot give you mine
not because i love you less
because your love is more divine.
Let me go, to my mad world
for madness that helps me grow,
I'll bring you treasures of insanity
that a saner world can't show.
Wish me some wind, Maa,
dont wish my wings denied
who flies like a kite?
winded at one end, the other end tied.
I shall return, when i'm homesick
to rest in that familiar old lap
sing me a lullaby wont you?
it'll make a beautiful snap.
my roads dont take me anywhere,
there's nowhere i want to go
i just want to roam in ways
that i myself dont know.
Your child is still a child, Maa
even if he is unabashedly undear
when you hear his voice, you know
your loss is still his greatest fear.

10 feet

I think i have been earmarked for close shaves. Lightning doesnt strike twice, but it has given me two kalti's. Real close ones. Here's the freakin last one and closer of the two. Whadda f*ck!
Nice calm monsoons. Mild drizzles with milder raindrops and a beautiful romantic feel to the lazy afternoon. The kind of rains that feel like scotch in the evenings and coffee by day, or walks by the beach with your oxytocin fix. Better called love. I was having none, just having the weather by the window and there it came, as an inexplicable flash of white. A strange powerful strip of descending light.
Blink and its gone with a crisp and sharp crackling sound. It felt unreal. Before you realize whats going on you're hit by the mammoth waves of thunder that follow. The windows rattle, the knees tremble, the heart starts thumping at trance rates. Pure adrenalin flushing your body thro and thro.
I can still drop my eyelids and hear that sound, crystal clear crackling sound, like crackers in Diwali, Sodium on fire, wires shorted, crack snorted.. zkrrzkrzrzrkzrzrkzkrzrzkrkzrkrzrkzr
My hair is standing at its end. It's been over 30 minutes.
Technically, the difference between life and death. I'd probably have checked out if my hair was standing before the strike. It's probably standing now because i havent checked out. If you have ever felt so much adrenalin in your blood, you're kind of zonked out enough to be wanting it again. I wish you know one day. And live thereafter to realise what i say.
But settling down to lower levels of gushing blood and more sustainable heartbeats, one feels so vulnerable and insignificant to the brute force of nature. Like ants trampled by unaware footfalls, like the million ants we trample. Unaware, unconcerned.
To look at it again, without the testosterone or amines causing the wires in my head to trip, trying to be rational about it, i think, i was a mere 10 feet away from writing this post and never one again. For what its worth in the 10 milliseconds of pure rush, would i have it again?
Hell yeah, if it doesnt kill me!
Chances are it'll.
10 feet away from being wiped out by a wierd white flash of light.
Unbelievable, unnerving, humbling, euphoric, true, random, lucky.
Lucky, stating the obvious because its too good to feel lucky.
Luck and me are star crossed, thankfully not this once.

Friday, June 15

Unblue

For a man i love even though he snatches my blue sunglasses away, i have only this to say
'Old Monk, you are a good ol' monk'

I have to have the most stupid set of friends in the world. birds of a feather flock together. Who plays 'peep quizzing' at 3.30 am in a middle of nowhere road, while our missy friend proclaims her duress under nature's call? Her enthusiasm got progressive with every wrong answer she gave.Very many.
She didn't stand a chance. Was winning of any consequence to the fury of the witheld torrent?
I thought it was urgent, so did everybody else in intervals of five minutes.
Who plays 'peep quizzing' anyways???
we weren't even that drunk!
and two of the four weren't even drinking
( they must have been high on life! ahem..)
so alcohol does not explain the girl's behaviour.
in case you were planning to drag my Old Monk into this.

I have to be fuckin kidding myself. I havent played dumb charades since beginning of common sense. Yeah well, last night i just played dumb charades with a bunch of overgrown, underevolved 22 year olds after an enlightening session of 'peep quizzing' although under more domestic settings with private provisions for nature.
Nature's calls are tough on Eves. (chauvinism eh?)

Okay, lets now get to the part where i appear smarter than the rest.
hunger pangs post dawn. money left only for bhurji pav and cutting. find no place. IIT canteen might've just shut. wisecracks decide to drive to the airport. Now advice. I hate it. But I must.
Bhurji pav,60. Omlette pav, 50. Pav bhaaji, 65. Pav excluded.
who pays that for burji pav in a stupid airport canteen? thats 10 bucks short of 5 cans.
btw.. pretty airhostesses.... naah, only cargo loaders and freeboarders.
Now if you know your tricks in Bombay vada sambar is the safest, cheapest bet with any Shetty should your misfortune land you there.
20. not billed. i dont complain. i dont pay. my part only. (thats more smart than cheapo if you're broke again by the end of night)
the food doesnt stick in my throat.
others dont have the ideal beginning to their day.
wonder when we last did.
............................

After exorcism of the blues by the good Old Monk, i had fairly intelligent things to see and hear for the rest of the day.

1. a nondescript hut with two huge connected hoardings to define its purpose
"Ramkrupa Raaj Jyotish" "Ramkrupa Estate Agents"
.... eggjactly!

2. "GOVINDA HAIR CUTTING SALOON"
(FOR MEN'S ONLY)
.... eggjactly!

3."Aapka Suroor. The moviee- the real luv story"
whut? no really whut?
the problem isn't nasal, its purely cerebral.
the german police will soon find out.

4. CNN-IBN runs out of people very enthusiastic about our choice of the next President.
(my missy friend with her heightened awareness of social issues in India thinks its Sonia Gandhi,
which may not be entirely incorrect if you're an insider. She isn't.)
So IBN catches Mrs. Patil's daughter for a 'few' soundbytes on the country's first lady prez. She has this to say:
"yes she is a lady, that lady is my mother"
... really??

I am so glad my friends, the priest, the waitress and the hippie dont do blogs. nor do most people who know me and them. Except G. Better find peace in silence.

Wednesday, June 13

The Blue Sunglass


It steals the colour from your eyes
and you almost never realise
when all at once the only hues
you see are the different shades of blues

Sunday, June 10

Catch22

I've never waited for a day for so long, as this. I should've been fuckin insanely happy at the end of it. No more exams. A free man. For as long as i wish to be. But i was blank.

Even when loading my head with information during exams, a month before exams when i was happy i was writing my last semester, six months before exams when i was glad i was in my last semester, even back then, a small part of me always kept itself happy looking forward to this day. Another small part of me worked tirelessly devising a million ideas on what i was going to do today. And for days to come after this day.

And all i have since i tied my last supplement is a blank. A numbness in the head.

Its only a co-incidence that i came home to switch on my computer to the shrill beep of blown RAM chips. The RAM chips had blown. Uncanny given the lame analogy in my last post.

I think the numbness in my head could also be attributed to similiar reasons . blown random access memory.

I thought i'd have been drinking like crazy to celebrate the closure. I wasnt.

Underslept I wanted to i'd sleep for wee bit before heading out for the night. Ended up spending the sunset hours on the terrace to escape the sweaty woes of an unexpected , unwanted power cut. Realised i was too tired to party in the overcrowded weekend pubs i could afford, too broke to be going to a better place. So i chose to take off my blue sunglass with a couple of drinks at an old friends pad.


bereft of ideas and enthusiasm, i settled for vodka with my old friend with white hair. He has now started looking the way Santa would, if he shaved, cropped and drank every night since Christmas. His head is huge. His intellect, limitless. Under the shadow of a shining professional career, our old man is mostly a recluse these days trying to come to terms with the fact that success like all most things in life is transient. However he takes his holy hour seriously. Playing Patience with his favourite set of ragged old cards. Advice is his form of nostalgia too. Sometimes it makes some sense, at all times its yet another alternate perception.

It was my last exam. Over. End of academics if i chose it so.
And he quietly said in his loud voice, 'my friend, this is the last insignificant exam that you will write. Every day from now on will be an exam with no grades, only a smile to take to bed at the end of it, or none.'Hmmm..

I bounced on it much later in the night back home. Catch22. I was in the wrong age at the wrong time. I should have figured out what i wanted to do in life by now. It was a wrong thought to have at 2 in the night with vodka in my head. Should i have been rather downing pints in a pub with skimpy teenagers, spiked hair northies and wierd middle aged men with hot wives? Cant tell, but i couldnt even sleep. Dont know why. My RAM chips had blown. And the one thought was seriously threatening my impending vacation.
What is the one thing i can bet my life on. It's something i need to think over everyday when i'm in my holy hour. Its not necessary that i find it in a week, a month or a year. Or ever. But its essential that i find it for myself and while in the process, its important to remain insulated from the vulnerabilities of confusion and indecision.
But then again, i'm in the wrong age at the wrong time, lets get the thinking sunglasses on.
Maybe.
It's Catch22.

Tuesday, June 5

Scrambled eggs

Always probing. Always disrobing.
Himself unto himself.

Yes, deleted the rest of it again, only retained the two lines that made sense.
The impulsive bit of writing is taking its toll. It wasn't meant to be.
Writing posts and deleting them at every subsequent read. Anyways, i shouldn't really take snapshots of my mindscape during exams. There's an information overload. A case in point is the analogy i'll make to RAMs. Yes, its an extended romance with chips and code. You know, its kind of strange how our minds are so similiar to random access memory chips. Load them with too much information and most certainly they leave you with no space for lateral thinking. No space to run free algorithms. Free some space and it starts holding garbage value. Random. Obscure. Garbage.

Anyways, i think i haven't written with much insight or personal touch in a long time. Should probably refrain from such futile attempts till the weekend. Maybe it will bring the change that will stop me from getting stale. Yes, finally engineering exams end for the last time.
It will be a big change. Long overdue.

I am placing my bets on the 'real' monsoons to hit Mumbai on Saturday. A perfect way to wash away the thick coat of dust that has gathered for four years. I can almost smell the freshness.
It's beautiful.

Come the rains,
The blues will fade into the grey.
a brighter shade of green will be,
what once was turning hay.

Friday, June 1

Writing blanks

Writing is getting bound to the grammar of thoughts.
Thoughts are getting bound by their own grammar.