Thursday, September 30, 2010

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road????!!!!!!!

I wonder why some people cross the road like they are strolling in the park. Is it the joy of feeling that they are invincible?? If they are thinking that way, then I have deep sympathies for them. I remember I was taught how to cross the road, when I was very young, for my safety (and of those who travel on the road).

First you look on your right and then left and then right. Once you are sure that there are no vehicles coming, then you cross the road with a brisk pace.

I wonder if it is that difficult or if it is so much of an exercise that it drains them of their energy!!

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To show to humans, how it is done!!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

A Writer's Nightmare........

The pen, it seems, was the best of all writing inventions in the history of mankind.

Quite.

But what came with it is the most unwelcome accessory. What came to safeguard the object mightier than the sword, had made the pen (and the mortals using it) to bow down in resignation.

By the way, I?m speaking about the pen-cap.

This small sheath of plastic (or metal) has turned out to be a pen wielder?s nightmare. Personally, I believe that its real job comes more in the line of getting lost and be sworn at when found hours later. Apart from one?s temper, this happens to be the object that one tends to lose most of the time. I feel that it is not getting due respect nowadays (no that it used to, earlier). Anyway, treat it with respect and you may be sure that you?ll be left alone (pun unintended). This is in connection with what happens scores of times, but is usually blamed on something else. You are writing something furiously. It turns out to be a Herculean piece of work for a human. After some minutes of labouring, you feel tired and want to give it a break. Incidentally, you happen to be writing with a fountain pen (one of those affairs which tend to throw up, or get dried up, if left unattended for long). Suddenly you realise that the wicked cap is missing. It is not on the floor, nor is it on the pen or on any part of you. Fed up, you put everything aside and get up.

The cap falls out of your lap and makes a dive for the floor. Invariably, it bounces up and vanishes into thin air.

An hour is spent in searching for it, and finally, you manage to find another (ill-fitting) cap and shut the pen up with it. Next morning, you find the old one lying beside you on the bed, smirking away.

The resulting storm of abuses does no good. The pen?s cap is the evil that needs to be looked after; the pen?s best friend and the fragile nib?s bodyguard.

Not to mention, a constant source of frustrated exercise.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Two sides of a mirror........


how does the question go when you ask it of yourself? what if i am not who i think i am? what if, without my knowing it, i am another? somebody dark? and bad? followed by the crushing understanding that, because you were creepy enough to eventhink these thoughts, you are already dark. and bad. i didn’t want to ask. i didn’t want to think about it. but you can’t undo a thought that happened inside your head. it already happened. and you are already damned. completely. utterly. in your head. in your gut. in your heart.

a moment: i am standing in front of a sheet of glass with a sheet of silver paper on its back. and i am afraid. of who? of the person that is not a person. of the human that is not human. such malheur… that i do not recognize myself. you do not recognize me, either. you can see the obliviousness in my face that is not a face that is looking at you from across the sheet of glass with a sheet of silver paper on its back so for me there is no plunging inside and trying to find an alternate reality because even if i crash the glass once i hit that silver paper i am stuck. and i. am. damned.

we become friends. through this glass window with a sheet of silver paper on its back. for days, we look at each other. size one another up. from different angles. perspectives. with the usual trepidation. and venom. and angst. you invite me over. i invite you over. a simple hand gesture. no words necessary. we know each other too well.

a memory: there was a day. i was walking around. looked to the side. over my shoulder. and someone looked back. but i didn’t stop. i kept walking, and – oh! – who was that? who was that looking at me with as much curiosity as only i have for myself?and that was when i realized it was me. it lasted a split moment… this obliviousness to myself… this lack of recognition. i had to think before i understood. before i realized. and i said to myself, i shouldn’t be looking at myself. and you said, because that is how you become dark.

you try to disengage yourself. from the image. from the darkness that lies inside it… behind it… beyond it. the silver paper is only silver on the side facing you. but it is black on the other side… where you don’t look. it’s like a scary dream where the walls are fluid and the floors are hilly and there are no holes or vents anywhere and you want to breathe but can’t and you want to scream but your lips are sewn together and you try to decipher but there is a coating of glue over your eyes and there is a shadow that you cannot see and a voice that you cannot hear and both of them are in your gut and are screaming run! and you know that that would be futile because there. are. no. outs.

you see yourself. and you don’t know. that you know. it’s you.

i make a game of it. i stand to the side of the glass window. you stand to the side. i stretch out my hand. you stretch out your hand. i steal a glance from the front… then check the back. you ditto. what am i looking for? stop fucking with me. but i must look. there is nothing there. only the black back of the silver paper. i pull myself away. i forget this thing. or try to forget it. dismiss it as folly. and imagination. but it is quite the game, isn’t it? a very clever game… like a twisted arithmetic… and it is not to be dismissed. why don’t you play it, then? i say. you have a glass window, too. meet with your glass window. but these meetings are sudden encounters… where something happens… something you had not counted on. you see something. something you know you can’t unsee. you can’t undo a thought that happened inside your head, remember? no. you can’t. it is there. and if you tell yourself it isn’t, you have already started to lie.

i lie. and i am good at it. you don’t catch on. and you won’t. because just as realization is beginning to paint your eyes, my eyes trick with a look that will make you change your mind…SNAP! just like that. i play the innocent so well. don’t you know me, by now?

i remember everything. that is why i am bad. no. not because i remember. but because i pretend to forget. i tell myself i don’t believe what my eyes are telling me. but i live with the memory of what my eyes saw on the other side. what i saw when i said that there was nothing there. the memory: it crashes into me like a train… and smears bits of me everywhere… like stains.

but i forget one thing: that i lied. if you tell the same lie enough times, even you start to believe it.

i keep forgetting to shut the fuck up. i keep forgetting to swallow my words. but even when i think silently, i think with my lips open. and the words slip out… from inside my gut… and disappear in the air… but not before they have tainted me… stained me… and you… forever.

i don’t dare move. i don’t dare. if i move… i will thrash and kick and scream… like a crazed animal… like an infant who has been wronged but can’t express that anguish. if i thrash… i might come closer. and, then… you will come closer, too. we will be together in a unique way… a way that only you and i can be together. but. you know. there is no coming back from that intimacy.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

let go

let go.....


you are ashamed of yrself..full of regret and anger...u re in a torrent of thots..."i LET OUT sucha a huge portion of my heart..a huge span of my life time...for THIS undeserving person???? SHAME on me!"


u trusted . u expected. u believed. u loved. and now...U feel STUPID.



u tell everyone whose ready to listen..."this is wat i got...i wasted my time...i regret...i repent"

u discuss it day in n day out...it zaps so much of yr time and energy ....those memories keep you grounded on square one! you keep loitering aimlessly in the past...in "what IFs and If ONLYs"

self pitying...self sympathising...the poor..victimised you...

someone mentions "that person" and ure quick to fly off the handle...you abuse..u mutter..u grumble..and plunge back into memories and blurt out: "i have snapped all connections with that wretched"

[o really??? ure not texting...u arent calling...not emailing...not meetin face to face..but wat bout the daily
mental encounters?

theres so much of excess baggage in your mind..the more you resist...it persists...
is self pity the only way out?
is discussing about it 24/7 the way to "forget" it??
is making them a regular visitor in yr mind space the way to let go??


today is the time to put a full stop....to their daily visits to yr mind...to signal a "no-entry" to these unwelcome peace disrupting visitors...the time to open your tightly clutched fist to experience the beauty of let go....


and then there will be ONE day..you will be immune.
free in the truest sense of the word...
so even you bang into "that" person...ure unaffected.

that state of indifference...where there isnt space for hatred..avenge...anger....nothing!
that person is now an acquaintance of the past..

their memories no longer control u..coz now u control their entry n exit in that privileged honoured corner of yr mind...

u cease to clamour..crib..complain...coz now u learn to let go...u learn to be free:)

A lil bit of this, A lil bit of that.................



Today, driving back home a while back, I was immersed in my thoughts as usual. It’s wonderful, how the brain itself compartmentalises our different actions and as long as we do not delve into any particular one beyond a certain safe level, each action gets performed smoothly. So while a part of my brain was busy processing my thoughts, whatever those were, the other part was safely manoeuvring me towards my abode after yet another day at work.

It was at a roundabout, as I took my first turn in otherwise a straight road till now, that my thoughts broke for the first time. I looked at a young man in his late adolescence trying to make his way through the traffic on his bicycle. On the other side of the road,there was an auto-rickshaw carrying two passengers, a middle-aged woman wearing the typical bright Punjabi attire along with a child in red shorts. Nearby, on the pavement, an old man holding onto his stick was negotiating with a fruit seller. I saw all these people in just one glimpse as I drove further. But somehow, their images kept lingering on.

Suddenly, I had this urge to come out of my previous thoughts which anyway I was not able to recollect, and look at the people as I drove past them. They all were different, yet all were same. I would never recognise anyone of them if I were to drive past them just after an hour. The auto-rickshaw driver was just another migrant from Bihar or Uttar Pradeshwith those same features which make them all look just the same. That middle-aged lady with her hair tied back into a long braid was just like any other woman of her age and similar taste or should I say, bad taste in fashion.

And then it struck to me, for all of those people, even I am just one of the millions of people that they drive, ride or walk past in their lives. We all have our own focal points, emanating from our self to our parents, siblings, spouses, children and moving beyond, encircling our friends and relatives and so on. Majority of these just brush past each other but some get intertwined and we get a new acquaintance. As time passes, many of them fade away while some remain intertwined for eternity.

My brain was not content with just processing this inevitability and it sprung up a new question. What must they be thinking right now?

As I saw a young charming woman ride past on a kinetic, I skipped a beat for a moment as happens to me every time like any normal human being. But then I moved to the same abnormal question trying to contemplate what all thoughts must be going through her mind right now. Was she thinking about the fight she had with her best friend or was she thinking about the excuse to make to her parents for going on a movie with her boyfriend.

How I wished, I was that guy.

But again pulling back myself from these fantasies, I saw around, a microcosm of humanity, all moving here and there with their own purposes and their own convictions.

I am just one of them, nothing great about me, I thought.

And this is the thought which sends a shiver down my spine. This is the one thought which has been recurring over and over again from past few weeks and this is the one thought that Kate Winslet puts succinctly in the movie Revolutionary Road when she says to her husband, played byLeonardo DiCaprio, “Look at us. We're just like everyone else. We've bought into the same, ridiculous delusion.

This thought has become more profound since last few months. Till now, somehow I was protected from these thoughts as a teenager. But entering the real world, I realised, there are so many like me who think, somehow they are special. As Kate puts it, “Our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we're special. That we're superior to the whole thing. But we're not.” Yes, we are not.

We are all different, yet we are all same.

The sooner you realise it, the better it is for you. However, I wanted to escape from this thought as soon as possible. So, my brain automatically sprung up another thought.

Just like I am philosophising about everything, was that young lad on his bicycle, also pondering over it. Moreover, what about that old man? How many times in his life, he must have thought about this. Or did he ever care?

We’ve got such a wonderful thing known as the brain. It is not just a storehouse of such large information but also helps in processing it as and when required. But how many of us actually use it beyond the desired motions of everyday life. I believe everyone does. It’s just that the proportion of these different usages differ. While, I am using it to philosophise right now, someone else in another corner of the world will be busy fantasising and day-dreaming. The latter is definitely a great escape from the blunt questions of life, I thought.

As all this was going through my mind, my bike suddenly halted and I realized I was looking at the gate of my house. My brain had once again directed me well, bringing me home safely while I was busy contemplating a little bit of this and a little bit of that....................