It's a strange world we live in.
One of the safest places to sleep is besieged by cowardly boys calling themselves men.
The busiest railway station witnesses a massacre by "men" who enter by sea.
One of them caught, not known how many dead, not known how many still alive, where they be!
One cannot but help laugh at the prospect of their strength being only ten.
It's a strange world we live in.
The country that divided brothers 60 years ago, now decide to flee back to their soil
leaving the still blind and angry brothers to fight in turmoil.
For them, it was a game then, one of their many ploys
They don't realize it is a game now, played by boys.
They run now in the name of terror,
have they any idea their scars will remain forever?
Yet, shamelessly we ask them to stay,
like everything is all ok.
From the same country we demanded a "Quit"
now we beg them to send back their playing unit.
It's a strange world we live in.
Television channels had a field day.
They thought they had things at bay.
Oblivious to the fact that they could be hindering the rescue.
They turned deaf, running after survivors for an interview.
It's a strange world we live in.
Politicians played their vote bank cards,
they think they are scholars or even bards!
Their mouths reek of insensitivity,
they treat people with such triviality.
Jokers they are in this kingdom of falling cards,
leading this nation like a bunch of retards.
No respect given to the fallen soldiers,
now their heads roll like boulders!
It's a strange world we live in.
Where do we start on the people of this country!
They feel anger, betrayal, hurt and sorrow,
but they forget, they are the one's who build tomorrow,
yet they go up in arms against the system THEY set,
like a crying baby when its demands aren't met.
It's a strange world we live in.
It's a world where no one is a hero and there is everyone to blame.
To be in such a state is to be in a state of shame.
Pointing fingers everywhere, like we're all so brave,
The man the nation calls her father,
must be crying in his grave.
It's a strange world we live in.
And it's gone mad.
But now is not the time to give in.
THAT would be really sad.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Operation WS 32 - cut the enemy to size
The camouflaged attire I adorned didn't really speak volumes of my calibre as a fighter. It was just proof.... proof I was fighting something. I wore the thick shirt with relative ease. It was tighter than what I expected it would be. It cut my shoulders and was stuffy at the chest and neck. My pant was still unbuttoned. I had it on though, almost. It was the button that was bordering around being a nuisance. I tugged at the zip hard, trying to make it cross the "Line of control". But it remained insurgent to my wishes, like the refugee oblivious to the greener other side. I fought and fought and fought for god knows how long. It wouldn't budge. The battle was very nearly lost.
Sensing defeat my fingers caught hold of the button and its hole. The enemy had to be scuffed. It's what it deserved. And I was the undertaker. But the button was a coward, not wishing the hole to be strung around it's neck. The distance it had to cover to get to its hole was large, larger than ever. The mountanious trip to the gallows was a hard journey, and not surprisingly, much like the zip, the button too didn't budge. It was a refugee in another's camp, but this time, not oblivious to the fact there was peace at the other end. I t knew, yet had no choice.
But my hands didn't let go. They continued their constant onslaught of the button, and much likea forever troubled resident of an already troubled nation, it broke away and fell to the ground. There it fell, cut off from it's original position only because it couldn't cross the mountain inbetween.
I then saw the real enemy.
The mountain in between grew as the misunderstood button fell to the ground. It just kept growing. It was breathing like it was alive. But you could see that it was not active. THAT land was the enemy. The enemy that was left to grow in between by an inactive and lazy mind.
Now I had to mend it. Otherwise it would continue to grow like a bottomless pit in the middle of the atlantic.
And then it came to me. Operation WS (Waist Size) 32 (inches). The Brainstorm of an idea to rid my body of no man's land. Then there would be no conflicts. A world protected by a process stronger than the protection of a pant zip.....
Losing weight.
I had to cut the enemy to size and this was my only choice. It had its many advantages.
But for a fighter like me... the biggest would be.... the opportunity to "stand at ease".
Sensing defeat my fingers caught hold of the button and its hole. The enemy had to be scuffed. It's what it deserved. And I was the undertaker. But the button was a coward, not wishing the hole to be strung around it's neck. The distance it had to cover to get to its hole was large, larger than ever. The mountanious trip to the gallows was a hard journey, and not surprisingly, much like the zip, the button too didn't budge. It was a refugee in another's camp, but this time, not oblivious to the fact there was peace at the other end. I t knew, yet had no choice.
But my hands didn't let go. They continued their constant onslaught of the button, and much likea forever troubled resident of an already troubled nation, it broke away and fell to the ground. There it fell, cut off from it's original position only because it couldn't cross the mountain inbetween.
I then saw the real enemy.
The mountain in between grew as the misunderstood button fell to the ground. It just kept growing. It was breathing like it was alive. But you could see that it was not active. THAT land was the enemy. The enemy that was left to grow in between by an inactive and lazy mind.
Now I had to mend it. Otherwise it would continue to grow like a bottomless pit in the middle of the atlantic.
And then it came to me. Operation WS (Waist Size) 32 (inches). The Brainstorm of an idea to rid my body of no man's land. Then there would be no conflicts. A world protected by a process stronger than the protection of a pant zip.....
Losing weight.
I had to cut the enemy to size and this was my only choice. It had its many advantages.
But for a fighter like me... the biggest would be.... the opportunity to "stand at ease".
Sunday, December 14, 2008
One meaningful journey
Muniguda
I had such familiarity in going to unfamiliar places. So, Muniguda didn't seem too intimidating. The train I was on was anything but an Express. I wasn't complaining anyway, there was no one around to complain to. I couldn't sleep. I had already slept the night and most of the day. The late evening chill pinched my cheeks as I put my face out of the coach door. I could see only what darkness himself could see. The occasional railway line lamps did not add any light to the journey, but it did give hope that the world still existed!
A chirpy, plump railway caterer smiled his way up to me. I returned the smile and asked him what he wanted. "Thats what I wanted to ask you", he said, with near perfect English. I say near perfect as his Telugu accent could not be missed. I laughed and said a tea would suffice. He hopped back to the pantry along with his well kept tummy and I returned to my gazing at nothing. I don't know how long I gazed, but my glasses did turn all hazy. There was a pat on my shoulder and the whale of a pantry guy was back. He had a cup of tea on a tray he held and I took it gratefully.
"Are you a student?"
The loud yet expected voice of the pantry official overshot the chugging of the train. He was still smiling though. I nodded in reply, it made life easier, nodding, amidst the pleasant noise. "My son was a student once", he said, holding the support as his tummy chugged along with the train.
"Oh is he done with studying now?"
"No...... he is just done."
At first I did not understand what he was trying to say, but only after his smile disappeared did I realize what he meant. Before I could apologize, he smiled again and with tears in his eyes spoke with great pride;
" My son was in the army. He fought terrorists, much the like the ones who were in Mumbai. I am sure he saved loads of people, but I don't know, I don't know what happened to him. I have been here in this train for 25 yrs now, and done nothing useful, except give this nation a son who could save it from turmoil. You are probably wondering how I speak English so well, well, that too was thanks to my son."
His smile was wider than ever, I felt like crying but his genuine love for his dead son had made my senses go numb. I didn't gaze at the darkness anymore, I started now gazing at the wide man with an even wider smile speaking proudly about his dead son.
After an awkward but pleasant conversation with the man, I placed my empty tea cup back on his tray with currency. He smiled again and bobbed his way to the next compartment. Before he was out of sight he turned back and said;
"Sorry for the disturbance, but I thought I should tell you that. Younger generation holds the key. This nation depends on youth. Good bye. Muniguda is next station. All the best for your audit."
All I could do is smile. There was a bunch of politicians sitting in the berth nearest to the doors. As I heard them laughing, drinking and smoking oblivious to the rules and regulations of train journeys, my body seethed with anger. There they sat, not concerned with the law they need to be enforcing on other people. Occasionally, one goon would go into orchestra mode and his many chamchas went into bouts of "Wah"s.
I tried not paying attention to them, as my station drew nearer. My phone beeped a message. It was my colleague at Lanjigarh. Muniguda station was not a safe option as naxalites had started off a violent strike at that province. Again I was reminded about the chubby caterer and his son. had he told me the truth? He seemed to be. His voice resounded with pride and passion. And there I was, finding solace by just staring into darkness as I had nothing better to do. Who would give him solace? Who will give meaning to his life now?
The answer then came to me.
He had already found his meaning.
His life now was now about giving meaning to all young blood boarding this train.
Ambodala was to be my stop said the subsequent message. The politicians were becoming unbearable. They were passing comments on women young enough to be their daughters. As I walked past the the corridor to give them a reproachful look, the whale of a waiter returned and gave that curved smile that calmed my seething young blood.
"Don't get down at Muniguda. Big strike. Naxalites are involved babu. Don't get involved in that. Precaution better than cure! ok andi?"
I smiled back and I guess he got the message. He then saw me staring at the politicians, who were oblivious to our presence.
"They are politicians babu. They will do like that only. You don't bother about them and all. Ambodala only 5 minutes away from Muniguda. Get out and be calm." He bobbed back waving his pudgy hand at me.
Ambodala came. And almost immediately went. But the two minutes went like 2 days. I got out with bag and baggage onto the ground. It was bare, it was cold and it was midnight. An old shrivelled station master raised a flag, its colour lost in the darkness, to signal the end of the two minutes. I heard a string of 'Wah"s.
But I couldn't possibly waste time thinking about them. They had no job.
As the whale of the waiter would say "they will be like that only"
I had a job to do. And I had to do it well.
I smiled as I walked back alone to the gate, as the train chugged the other way, there in the distance at the coach door, the pudgy pantry waved me a bye and then gave me a big thumbs up.
And even darkness himself couldn't hide the smile written all over his face.
I had such familiarity in going to unfamiliar places. So, Muniguda didn't seem too intimidating. The train I was on was anything but an Express. I wasn't complaining anyway, there was no one around to complain to. I couldn't sleep. I had already slept the night and most of the day. The late evening chill pinched my cheeks as I put my face out of the coach door. I could see only what darkness himself could see. The occasional railway line lamps did not add any light to the journey, but it did give hope that the world still existed!
A chirpy, plump railway caterer smiled his way up to me. I returned the smile and asked him what he wanted. "Thats what I wanted to ask you", he said, with near perfect English. I say near perfect as his Telugu accent could not be missed. I laughed and said a tea would suffice. He hopped back to the pantry along with his well kept tummy and I returned to my gazing at nothing. I don't know how long I gazed, but my glasses did turn all hazy. There was a pat on my shoulder and the whale of a pantry guy was back. He had a cup of tea on a tray he held and I took it gratefully.
"Are you a student?"
The loud yet expected voice of the pantry official overshot the chugging of the train. He was still smiling though. I nodded in reply, it made life easier, nodding, amidst the pleasant noise. "My son was a student once", he said, holding the support as his tummy chugged along with the train.
"Oh is he done with studying now?"
"No...... he is just done."
At first I did not understand what he was trying to say, but only after his smile disappeared did I realize what he meant. Before I could apologize, he smiled again and with tears in his eyes spoke with great pride;
" My son was in the army. He fought terrorists, much the like the ones who were in Mumbai. I am sure he saved loads of people, but I don't know, I don't know what happened to him. I have been here in this train for 25 yrs now, and done nothing useful, except give this nation a son who could save it from turmoil. You are probably wondering how I speak English so well, well, that too was thanks to my son."
His smile was wider than ever, I felt like crying but his genuine love for his dead son had made my senses go numb. I didn't gaze at the darkness anymore, I started now gazing at the wide man with an even wider smile speaking proudly about his dead son.
After an awkward but pleasant conversation with the man, I placed my empty tea cup back on his tray with currency. He smiled again and bobbed his way to the next compartment. Before he was out of sight he turned back and said;
"Sorry for the disturbance, but I thought I should tell you that. Younger generation holds the key. This nation depends on youth. Good bye. Muniguda is next station. All the best for your audit."
All I could do is smile. There was a bunch of politicians sitting in the berth nearest to the doors. As I heard them laughing, drinking and smoking oblivious to the rules and regulations of train journeys, my body seethed with anger. There they sat, not concerned with the law they need to be enforcing on other people. Occasionally, one goon would go into orchestra mode and his many chamchas went into bouts of "Wah"s.
I tried not paying attention to them, as my station drew nearer. My phone beeped a message. It was my colleague at Lanjigarh. Muniguda station was not a safe option as naxalites had started off a violent strike at that province. Again I was reminded about the chubby caterer and his son. had he told me the truth? He seemed to be. His voice resounded with pride and passion. And there I was, finding solace by just staring into darkness as I had nothing better to do. Who would give him solace? Who will give meaning to his life now?
The answer then came to me.
He had already found his meaning.
His life now was now about giving meaning to all young blood boarding this train.
Ambodala was to be my stop said the subsequent message. The politicians were becoming unbearable. They were passing comments on women young enough to be their daughters. As I walked past the the corridor to give them a reproachful look, the whale of a waiter returned and gave that curved smile that calmed my seething young blood.
"Don't get down at Muniguda. Big strike. Naxalites are involved babu. Don't get involved in that. Precaution better than cure! ok andi?"
I smiled back and I guess he got the message. He then saw me staring at the politicians, who were oblivious to our presence.
"They are politicians babu. They will do like that only. You don't bother about them and all. Ambodala only 5 minutes away from Muniguda. Get out and be calm." He bobbed back waving his pudgy hand at me.
Ambodala came. And almost immediately went. But the two minutes went like 2 days. I got out with bag and baggage onto the ground. It was bare, it was cold and it was midnight. An old shrivelled station master raised a flag, its colour lost in the darkness, to signal the end of the two minutes. I heard a string of 'Wah"s.
But I couldn't possibly waste time thinking about them. They had no job.
As the whale of the waiter would say "they will be like that only"
I had a job to do. And I had to do it well.
I smiled as I walked back alone to the gate, as the train chugged the other way, there in the distance at the coach door, the pudgy pantry waved me a bye and then gave me a big thumbs up.
And even darkness himself couldn't hide the smile written all over his face.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
There...and back again
I lay down on my cold bed. It was well past midnight. I was not scared, yet I was shivering like a mouse in the dirty claws of a savage like cat. Nothing could stop it. My teeth chattered away like a machine making the only sound in the empty room.
The cat's grip became tighter almost vice like as it squeezed the life out the mouse like soul on the cold bed. It wasn't the chill in the wind. I was immune to that. It couldn't be the water from the bath. What could it be?! I couldn't feel blood, that comforted me. Then.....
My head burst.
I was in a place very close to my heart.... open.... smelling of rich wood furnishings and lights. The stage was naked and one could see a rusted old nail dead centre. The place was empty except for a solitary chair in the middle of the audience. Someone was sitting on it with his back to me. I moved cautiously toward the person and when I saw who it was I let out a short scream no one else could hear.
I saw myself standing in front of me, taller, slimmer and a lot more likable than my usual self. I could have sworn my twin's skin tone was a shade lighter. It wasn't because of the lights on him, one could sense a divine glow. I certainly did.
Who are you?
Who do you want me to be?
That settled it. He was definitely more intelligent.
What am I doing here?
Do you want to be here?
uhh.... ya... I know this place... but what do you mean?
Do you want to be here? He repeated with a smile I could have never sported.
Well... yes....no... well.... why am I here?
That's a better question.
I scanned him too quickly. I was not able to stop my eyes from ogling at myself. Who was he? He wasn't me. But he was. WHAT WAS GOING ON???
You want to be here don't you?
Don't you realize you have been shooting only questions?
Yes. Didn't you realize? - he shot back. I didn't expect it. It hit me hard. Very Hard. What did he mean by that? He had given me his first answer but only to follow it up with a slap on the face kind of question. Did he really want me to answer that?
I don't always question..... I said, not too sure of myself.
He smiled again. I wish I could do that, I thought.
You love this place don't you?
Yes.
You want to be here now and forever?
Yes.
You want to be left alone here?
Not always.
Good one. You want them to come too?
Them?
Them.
Yes.
Do you like it where you are?
I can't answer that.
Why not?
I don't want to.
You can't or you don't want to?.. make up your mind.
I DO NT WANT TO , I screamed. The voice carried and bounced off the walls.
You want to be there too don't you?
Yes. I do.
Even though you don't have to?
No... I have to.
But you don't want to?
I.... have to... so... I want to.
Is that even possible?
It is.
You think so?
Yes.
He smiled again. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks. But I wasn't crying. What was going on?
Then it hit me again. My head was bursting. It had woken up.
I knew. And then I said;
I know who you are.
What?
WHO ARE YOU?
I am you.
No you are not. You are not me.
Says who. He was frowning now. He looked tough to crack. I felt the shiver again. Now I knew what it was. It wasn't the bed or the wind. It was him.... it was me... and it was just the two of us.
Then who am I?
You are nobody.
WHAT? His eyes grew bigger than usual and they tore through my skin almost burning me. His eyebrows sharpened and he lost the divinity he first possessed.
I stood firm. Not moving an inch. Looking back, eyes and brow steady and looking him in the eye. I knew I was burning. But I dare not let him know he was winning.
I want to be here. Yes.
THEN COME. COME HERE FOR GOOD. He was screaming. His voice resounding between the four walls and the place was now no longer empty. Millions of faceless Shadows stood facing us. One half of the million shadows laughed at me and the other half's faceless expressions showed signs of worry and love. But I didn't pay them too much attention. This was unreal. And he wasn't me.
I have to go back... because I want to.
NO YOU DON"T. His sharp eyes were now red, and his teeth grew into fangs. He no longer sported the smile, and he was dark. Darker than the shadows around him.
I don't need you. I need me.
YOU NEED ME. YOU ARE LOSING YOURSELF THERE.
No I am not. I will lose myself here.
YOU LOVE THIS PLACE.
I'll LOVE IT MORE IF I DON"T STAY HERE.
YOU ARE A FOOL.
SAYS WHO? SAYS WHO? SAYS A PERSON WHO DOESN'T KNOW WHO HE IS!
That did it. My teeth were chattering because of my screaming. There was a scream, a scream that was making my head burst again, and he was turning into something. Something crude and disgusting. He was going back to being himself. My head continued to burst as he transformed. I yelled and my throat hurt. I then shut my eyes tight and ran....ran, not looking where I was going. I jumped the stairs leading to the stage and stopped just before I placed my foot on the rusted iron nail. I was not myself. I was hurting. He...it..whatever...was doing something to me. He was still going all hazy... with no physical form to his credit.
YOU CAN"T TAKE THE PAIN. YOU CAN"T. TAKE THIS WAY. It's easier!!!!
I shut my eyes again. Looked in his direction.
YOU ARE WRONG.
The nail near my foot grew thrice as long and gave itself a golden handle. There was no rust anymore. I bent down, picked it up and without thinking threw it at my other self.
It all went dark. And I could feel the mist again.
But I was shivering no more.
I had won.
For now.
The cat's grip became tighter almost vice like as it squeezed the life out the mouse like soul on the cold bed. It wasn't the chill in the wind. I was immune to that. It couldn't be the water from the bath. What could it be?! I couldn't feel blood, that comforted me. Then.....
My head burst.
I was in a place very close to my heart.... open.... smelling of rich wood furnishings and lights. The stage was naked and one could see a rusted old nail dead centre. The place was empty except for a solitary chair in the middle of the audience. Someone was sitting on it with his back to me. I moved cautiously toward the person and when I saw who it was I let out a short scream no one else could hear.
I saw myself standing in front of me, taller, slimmer and a lot more likable than my usual self. I could have sworn my twin's skin tone was a shade lighter. It wasn't because of the lights on him, one could sense a divine glow. I certainly did.
Who are you?
Who do you want me to be?
That settled it. He was definitely more intelligent.
What am I doing here?
Do you want to be here?
uhh.... ya... I know this place... but what do you mean?
Do you want to be here? He repeated with a smile I could have never sported.
Well... yes....no... well.... why am I here?
That's a better question.
I scanned him too quickly. I was not able to stop my eyes from ogling at myself. Who was he? He wasn't me. But he was. WHAT WAS GOING ON???
You want to be here don't you?
Don't you realize you have been shooting only questions?
Yes. Didn't you realize? - he shot back. I didn't expect it. It hit me hard. Very Hard. What did he mean by that? He had given me his first answer but only to follow it up with a slap on the face kind of question. Did he really want me to answer that?
I don't always question..... I said, not too sure of myself.
He smiled again. I wish I could do that, I thought.
You love this place don't you?
Yes.
You want to be here now and forever?
Yes.
You want to be left alone here?
Not always.
Good one. You want them to come too?
Them?
Them.
Yes.
Do you like it where you are?
I can't answer that.
Why not?
I don't want to.
You can't or you don't want to?.. make up your mind.
I DO NT WANT TO , I screamed. The voice carried and bounced off the walls.
You want to be there too don't you?
Yes. I do.
Even though you don't have to?
No... I have to.
But you don't want to?
I.... have to... so... I want to.
Is that even possible?
It is.
You think so?
Yes.
He smiled again. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks. But I wasn't crying. What was going on?
Then it hit me again. My head was bursting. It had woken up.
I knew. And then I said;
I know who you are.
What?
WHO ARE YOU?
I am you.
No you are not. You are not me.
Says who. He was frowning now. He looked tough to crack. I felt the shiver again. Now I knew what it was. It wasn't the bed or the wind. It was him.... it was me... and it was just the two of us.
Then who am I?
You are nobody.
WHAT? His eyes grew bigger than usual and they tore through my skin almost burning me. His eyebrows sharpened and he lost the divinity he first possessed.
I stood firm. Not moving an inch. Looking back, eyes and brow steady and looking him in the eye. I knew I was burning. But I dare not let him know he was winning.
I want to be here. Yes.
THEN COME. COME HERE FOR GOOD. He was screaming. His voice resounding between the four walls and the place was now no longer empty. Millions of faceless Shadows stood facing us. One half of the million shadows laughed at me and the other half's faceless expressions showed signs of worry and love. But I didn't pay them too much attention. This was unreal. And he wasn't me.
I have to go back... because I want to.
NO YOU DON"T. His sharp eyes were now red, and his teeth grew into fangs. He no longer sported the smile, and he was dark. Darker than the shadows around him.
I don't need you. I need me.
YOU NEED ME. YOU ARE LOSING YOURSELF THERE.
No I am not. I will lose myself here.
YOU LOVE THIS PLACE.
I'll LOVE IT MORE IF I DON"T STAY HERE.
YOU ARE A FOOL.
SAYS WHO? SAYS WHO? SAYS A PERSON WHO DOESN'T KNOW WHO HE IS!
That did it. My teeth were chattering because of my screaming. There was a scream, a scream that was making my head burst again, and he was turning into something. Something crude and disgusting. He was going back to being himself. My head continued to burst as he transformed. I yelled and my throat hurt. I then shut my eyes tight and ran....ran, not looking where I was going. I jumped the stairs leading to the stage and stopped just before I placed my foot on the rusted iron nail. I was not myself. I was hurting. He...it..whatever...was doing something to me. He was still going all hazy... with no physical form to his credit.
YOU CAN"T TAKE THE PAIN. YOU CAN"T. TAKE THIS WAY. It's easier!!!!
I shut my eyes again. Looked in his direction.
YOU ARE WRONG.
The nail near my foot grew thrice as long and gave itself a golden handle. There was no rust anymore. I bent down, picked it up and without thinking threw it at my other self.
It all went dark. And I could feel the mist again.
But I was shivering no more.
I had won.
For now.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Roar
Come.... Hear the roar!
There he goes, fearless, without a thought
written on his head are lines showing signs of worry
Yet, no thoughts one could read, sorry.
Did he find joy in this?
He has his target set... he cannot miss
Its about time... come... hear the roar!
His brow was like a bow, with eyes as sharp as arrows
And when they meet in perfect unison...
It'll come... the roar... the roar will come
The air kisses and his long flowing mane dances like the fire
Along the way, it caresses his face, is wood, burning it.
Victory is in sight, the arrows and eyes are one
The task shall be done, his brows and face agree
Looking,
Waiting,
Then... there she goes!!!!!
Now we wait
Now we wait... it'll come!
And there he screams
with a blend of joy and pain
with a tinge of sorrow and gain
the enemy has been SLAIN!
His roar resounds not for the victory
He doesn't know he has won
He screams..
for he has done what had to be done!
He will find joy in this...
But not now... not now
But come it will when he knows not
Yet here he screams, like there is no present or past
No thought telling him how long it will last!
Come... you have heard the roar!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
see chennai.. saw Dilli
Haan Ji.
The monotony in his tone was making me wonder.... why is the housekeeper so fear driven when he spoke to me. It had been 2 days since my arrival at the capital and all I get once I return to the guest house are those two words. Well, I do get close to eatable dinner and breakfast as well but that doesn't count. But this time I summed up all my courage (not out of fear of the monotonous housekeeper, but out of my limited vocabulary in the Rashtriya Basha) and asked;
Aap kyun kuch nahi bolthe Hain.
He looked taken aback.. almost threatened. And then slowly, with the drone in his voice easing, he said he feared auditors.
Although I didn't open my mouth I could feel the laughter bursting at its tips. But I could also feel a great deal of pity. I was as close to being a qualified auditor as he was to being a professional singer. I told him there was nothing to fear and that if at all there was anything, he could tell me. It was only later did I realize why the fear of the housekeeper had increased manifold on my arrival. The guest house I was put up in was to be closed down and we were all to move down the road to another one the client had set up. There would be no food and water in the house.
Koi Baath Nahi, I said.
This time he smiled in glee. I too smiled back and told him again attempting my ragged Hindi, that there was no problem and I would find a way to feed myself.
That day, a Sunday, I went down the road to a place called Sethi's and walked in... I ordered a couple of things and went about eating them with relish. The housekeeper's food was worth complaining about, but it did build great appetite for the right occasion.
It was while having this meal did I realize, it was going to be birthday the very next Sunday, and I would be stuck here in this very restaurant that day as well. i chewed on a piece of chicken as my mind whizzed past the memories of my colourful past.
I was going to be 20. 20 years old and no longer a teenager. I assessed my standing in the world and what i had accomplished and what I had to do in the future. When I dug in deep into my past, I was left, thoroughly disappointed. Yes, I did have a few things to talk about, but I realized I had none to tell them to. Also, I had realized, that over the last year, I had been disgracefully boastful, arrogant and ignorant to people's feelings.
Yes, I was a hard worker, a good human being with a flair for socializing and making friends. At least that's what i thought. I could not pick up my phone at that very moment and tell anyone about what I was feeling and why I was feeling so. I felt lonely, deprived and absolutely disgusted with my emotional and physical self.
I entered dessert thinking about how I can carry myself forward and the phone rang. My tea leader told me I could take the flight home for Diwali. My heart skipped a beat and I felt elated. I was going back home.... for diwali and my birthday. I looked down on my favourite mango ice cream and thought about how much weight I had put on over the last year. I again went back to being depressed. I was such a failure. A misguided missile and an absolute waste of space and time.
The week passed and I boarded the flight to Chennai. I reached home and family was very Happy to see me. After the initial euphoria, my mom's constant reminders to clear my luggage irked me. I mean, come on, I was just back, I should be able to do it soon, and how was it possible when I shared the room with my brother and I had to tend to the 30 odd guests in the house on account of my grand dad's birthday.
I slept late the day I returned. I got up slightly late too. Only to realize, I was 20 years old. I went about the morning half asleep and walked like a zombie into the car following the orders of my mother to get an abhishekam done at a Shivan temple. i dozed to glory in the car and got up... not in a Shiva temple, but In temple bay resort. A family surprise as twenty odd faces and 40 eyes looked at me with anticipation. I obliged them the necessary shock and surprise and they were happy. I felt happy too. After a very long time. But i didn't think about it too much. Looking back, I felt it was much too formal, I lacked the warmth my family members had towards me. I was again passively arrogant and quietly stubborn. I don't understand how, nor do I think I have explained it appropriately. It was gut feeling. That's how it felt.
After Temple bay i got back home, I phoned one of best friends amidst the birthday wishes from others. I asked her to join me at home and just hang around for a while. She surprisingly said yes.
She arrived and I felt good that I was not alone in this world and I wasn't a worthless piece of dung after all. Still, this was one person, and she was probably being polite I thought.
It was then I realized how stupid I was think that. Not more than an hour after her arrival, was I surprised yet again by a horde of people whom I consider friends. They bought me a cake and they made blow the candle. I felt 2 years old. I felt like crying... not only out of happiness but also cry at my stupidity for thinking I was an outcast in this world.
Surprises come rarely. Very few are fortunate to get them. I got it when I was just 20.
I felt so stupid. I had manufactured sorrow. I felt sorry for myself and pity for absolutely no reason. I had to correct that. Why I was feeling such things I did not understand, nor did I want to. I just wanted these thoughts to be put to rest after that surprise.
The next day after diwali pooja, I accompanied a whole lot my friends to an orphanage. I spent a day there and thanks to me, a game was also organized for the kids there. Although, it would be unfair for me to take full credit for the way the trip turned out. I was happy and equally proud of what my friends were doing and was happy I was part of it.
the next day I woke up late again. this time, I was again hit by the wave of sorrow. But, this time, I knew it was not manufactured. my parents weren't talking to me. They felt my attitude was wrong and I didn't spend enough time with my books. Right though they are, i felt justified in my non - chalance to the books due to the circumstances and the festivities. I shared the same with my parents but to no avail as they remained silent when I spoke and ignored my pining for their confidence in me. But all to no avail.
I again, felt miserable at the state of affairs at home. no matter how hard I try, I never feel elated all the time. But, then again, was I justified in saying I was trying hard? somewhere I needed answers for the questions I never asked or knew. I needed something to clear my head of my doubts, fears and malfeasance.
When I sat there again, in a similar situation as to the one in Sethi's fast food, my phone rang. It was a delhi number and I picked it up and said,
haan ji.
It was the housekeeper. He had called to wish me a very happy Diwali and a belated birthday... He also said he had never seen such a kind and hard working auditor and was very glad that it was I who he was serving and no one else and would be glad to have me back the coming weekend.
And thus went on the see - saw of my life from chennai to delhi. And will do so for as long as I live. With the past, I saw, and should learn, and with the future I shall see, what is in store.
Are they the answers?
we shall find out.
The monotony in his tone was making me wonder.... why is the housekeeper so fear driven when he spoke to me. It had been 2 days since my arrival at the capital and all I get once I return to the guest house are those two words. Well, I do get close to eatable dinner and breakfast as well but that doesn't count. But this time I summed up all my courage (not out of fear of the monotonous housekeeper, but out of my limited vocabulary in the Rashtriya Basha) and asked;
Aap kyun kuch nahi bolthe Hain.
He looked taken aback.. almost threatened. And then slowly, with the drone in his voice easing, he said he feared auditors.
Although I didn't open my mouth I could feel the laughter bursting at its tips. But I could also feel a great deal of pity. I was as close to being a qualified auditor as he was to being a professional singer. I told him there was nothing to fear and that if at all there was anything, he could tell me. It was only later did I realize why the fear of the housekeeper had increased manifold on my arrival. The guest house I was put up in was to be closed down and we were all to move down the road to another one the client had set up. There would be no food and water in the house.
Koi Baath Nahi, I said.
This time he smiled in glee. I too smiled back and told him again attempting my ragged Hindi, that there was no problem and I would find a way to feed myself.
That day, a Sunday, I went down the road to a place called Sethi's and walked in... I ordered a couple of things and went about eating them with relish. The housekeeper's food was worth complaining about, but it did build great appetite for the right occasion.
It was while having this meal did I realize, it was going to be birthday the very next Sunday, and I would be stuck here in this very restaurant that day as well. i chewed on a piece of chicken as my mind whizzed past the memories of my colourful past.
I was going to be 20. 20 years old and no longer a teenager. I assessed my standing in the world and what i had accomplished and what I had to do in the future. When I dug in deep into my past, I was left, thoroughly disappointed. Yes, I did have a few things to talk about, but I realized I had none to tell them to. Also, I had realized, that over the last year, I had been disgracefully boastful, arrogant and ignorant to people's feelings.
Yes, I was a hard worker, a good human being with a flair for socializing and making friends. At least that's what i thought. I could not pick up my phone at that very moment and tell anyone about what I was feeling and why I was feeling so. I felt lonely, deprived and absolutely disgusted with my emotional and physical self.
I entered dessert thinking about how I can carry myself forward and the phone rang. My tea leader told me I could take the flight home for Diwali. My heart skipped a beat and I felt elated. I was going back home.... for diwali and my birthday. I looked down on my favourite mango ice cream and thought about how much weight I had put on over the last year. I again went back to being depressed. I was such a failure. A misguided missile and an absolute waste of space and time.
The week passed and I boarded the flight to Chennai. I reached home and family was very Happy to see me. After the initial euphoria, my mom's constant reminders to clear my luggage irked me. I mean, come on, I was just back, I should be able to do it soon, and how was it possible when I shared the room with my brother and I had to tend to the 30 odd guests in the house on account of my grand dad's birthday.
I slept late the day I returned. I got up slightly late too. Only to realize, I was 20 years old. I went about the morning half asleep and walked like a zombie into the car following the orders of my mother to get an abhishekam done at a Shivan temple. i dozed to glory in the car and got up... not in a Shiva temple, but In temple bay resort. A family surprise as twenty odd faces and 40 eyes looked at me with anticipation. I obliged them the necessary shock and surprise and they were happy. I felt happy too. After a very long time. But i didn't think about it too much. Looking back, I felt it was much too formal, I lacked the warmth my family members had towards me. I was again passively arrogant and quietly stubborn. I don't understand how, nor do I think I have explained it appropriately. It was gut feeling. That's how it felt.
After Temple bay i got back home, I phoned one of best friends amidst the birthday wishes from others. I asked her to join me at home and just hang around for a while. She surprisingly said yes.
She arrived and I felt good that I was not alone in this world and I wasn't a worthless piece of dung after all. Still, this was one person, and she was probably being polite I thought.
It was then I realized how stupid I was think that. Not more than an hour after her arrival, was I surprised yet again by a horde of people whom I consider friends. They bought me a cake and they made blow the candle. I felt 2 years old. I felt like crying... not only out of happiness but also cry at my stupidity for thinking I was an outcast in this world.
Surprises come rarely. Very few are fortunate to get them. I got it when I was just 20.
I felt so stupid. I had manufactured sorrow. I felt sorry for myself and pity for absolutely no reason. I had to correct that. Why I was feeling such things I did not understand, nor did I want to. I just wanted these thoughts to be put to rest after that surprise.
The next day after diwali pooja, I accompanied a whole lot my friends to an orphanage. I spent a day there and thanks to me, a game was also organized for the kids there. Although, it would be unfair for me to take full credit for the way the trip turned out. I was happy and equally proud of what my friends were doing and was happy I was part of it.
the next day I woke up late again. this time, I was again hit by the wave of sorrow. But, this time, I knew it was not manufactured. my parents weren't talking to me. They felt my attitude was wrong and I didn't spend enough time with my books. Right though they are, i felt justified in my non - chalance to the books due to the circumstances and the festivities. I shared the same with my parents but to no avail as they remained silent when I spoke and ignored my pining for their confidence in me. But all to no avail.
I again, felt miserable at the state of affairs at home. no matter how hard I try, I never feel elated all the time. But, then again, was I justified in saying I was trying hard? somewhere I needed answers for the questions I never asked or knew. I needed something to clear my head of my doubts, fears and malfeasance.
When I sat there again, in a similar situation as to the one in Sethi's fast food, my phone rang. It was a delhi number and I picked it up and said,
haan ji.
It was the housekeeper. He had called to wish me a very happy Diwali and a belated birthday... He also said he had never seen such a kind and hard working auditor and was very glad that it was I who he was serving and no one else and would be glad to have me back the coming weekend.
And thus went on the see - saw of my life from chennai to delhi. And will do so for as long as I live. With the past, I saw, and should learn, and with the future I shall see, what is in store.
Are they the answers?
we shall find out.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Grilled - An extension of Chicken curry for the Teenage soul - part I
I have really grown as a person over the last year and a half. Articleship coupled with the grind of travel, studies and with a couple of plays thrown in, has really rounded my personality... not to forget my ever expanding mid section. But no, I take full credit and blame for my physical state of affairs..... my firm's clientele are very hospitable creatures.. I become Auditor Saar at the tender age of 19 in their fear filled eyes.
Before the grind, I used to swim a lot, and that was an appropriate excuse for a ravenous appetite. But after joining, I found myself eating not the same quantity... but a lot lot more.
Now auditing balance sheets don't really burn 500 calories a day, however, they do come with their perks. I love the occasional snacks I get at office and the food is good enough on audits to keep my tummy and tongue happy.
Now like any well oiled audited and physically verified machine, the body too will depreciate and undergo natural wear and tear. Notice that I have compared, all be it metaphorically, the audited machine to our very own human body.... and the first thing wear and tear of a machine affects, unfortunately, is...
output.
Get the drift?
If yes,
Read on.
If no,
Figure it out, then read on.
The machine huffs, puffs and blows down the output that surely is going into the scrap yard. And I better stop about the machine, never have metaphors been so perverse.
So yes, I encountered my share of problems along the way. And recently, got ready to take on exam leave, Independence day was D - Day. Freedom. Literally. I hadn't touched my books. Not that exam leave was an incentive to do so. Nevertheless, freedom.
But on July 26th, 2008, the depreciation rates shot up. Pardon my untimely return to the metaphor. It was quite unavoidable.
I called on the doc and he insisted on a check up.
At the end of the check up, I found something other than freedom PILED onto me. read... PILED.
Get the Drift?
If yes, read on
If no, Figure it out, then read on.
"Laser is the only way out pa, its normal wear and tear", said the doc, quite calm.
way out?!, I thought, but I thought THAT WAS THE way out!
Well, it didn't hurt me much, (not in the physical sense, cause physically it was quite literally what it was) I got to have an extended leave for 15 days. I was quite amazed at the timing myself, couldn't have come at a better time. Maybe it got PILED on just in time. 15 days extra study incentive in the kitty.
That's what I thought.
I looked completely normal from the outside.
But that is when the ravenous greed inside my tummy started to curse.
Once again take machines, manufacturers don't feed the necessary input to a machine DELIVERING below par output do they?
Well, compromises have to be made. My tummy struck a deal with me and I was off the good stuff.
My mom seconded my decision to take it easy with the vittles. Remember the chicken curry?
Come to think of it, worn out machines are scrapped aren't they?
sCRAPPED.
Get the drift?
If yes, thank you.
If no, wait for Part II, not that you'll get the picture there.
Before the grind, I used to swim a lot, and that was an appropriate excuse for a ravenous appetite. But after joining, I found myself eating not the same quantity... but a lot lot more.
Now auditing balance sheets don't really burn 500 calories a day, however, they do come with their perks. I love the occasional snacks I get at office and the food is good enough on audits to keep my tummy and tongue happy.
Now like any well oiled audited and physically verified machine, the body too will depreciate and undergo natural wear and tear. Notice that I have compared, all be it metaphorically, the audited machine to our very own human body.... and the first thing wear and tear of a machine affects, unfortunately, is...
output.
Get the drift?
If yes,
Read on.
If no,
Figure it out, then read on.
The machine huffs, puffs and blows down the output that surely is going into the scrap yard. And I better stop about the machine, never have metaphors been so perverse.
So yes, I encountered my share of problems along the way. And recently, got ready to take on exam leave, Independence day was D - Day. Freedom. Literally. I hadn't touched my books. Not that exam leave was an incentive to do so. Nevertheless, freedom.
But on July 26th, 2008, the depreciation rates shot up. Pardon my untimely return to the metaphor. It was quite unavoidable.
I called on the doc and he insisted on a check up.
At the end of the check up, I found something other than freedom PILED onto me. read... PILED.
Get the Drift?
If yes, read on
If no, Figure it out, then read on.
"Laser is the only way out pa, its normal wear and tear", said the doc, quite calm.
way out?!, I thought, but I thought THAT WAS THE way out!
Well, it didn't hurt me much, (not in the physical sense, cause physically it was quite literally what it was) I got to have an extended leave for 15 days. I was quite amazed at the timing myself, couldn't have come at a better time. Maybe it got PILED on just in time. 15 days extra study incentive in the kitty.
That's what I thought.
I looked completely normal from the outside.
But that is when the ravenous greed inside my tummy started to curse.
Once again take machines, manufacturers don't feed the necessary input to a machine DELIVERING below par output do they?
Well, compromises have to be made. My tummy struck a deal with me and I was off the good stuff.
My mom seconded my decision to take it easy with the vittles. Remember the chicken curry?
Come to think of it, worn out machines are scrapped aren't they?
sCRAPPED.
Get the drift?
If yes, thank you.
If no, wait for Part II, not that you'll get the picture there.
THIS IS THAT TIME OF THE STORY WHEN WE USE THE MOST CRAPPY CLICHE ENDING EVER..
THE END... NO.... THE BEGINNING
Friday, August 1, 2008
Life is a nut - SHELL
Ensconced I am to the outside world,
For in your presence I make your eyes twirl.
Stay away at my behest,
For I have gone on a humble quest.
When I will return I do not know,
But return I will with a divine glow.
Strange is the way the world treats me,
I am surprised that they cannot see,
They love and care when I am at my peak,
Yet stay away from me when answers I seek.
I have renounced my heart and speak to my mind,
To be its master is to be a different kind.
Cold hearted I am thanks to you,
With these words that tell you nothing
I bid adieu!
For in your presence I make your eyes twirl.
Stay away at my behest,
For I have gone on a humble quest.
When I will return I do not know,
But return I will with a divine glow.
Strange is the way the world treats me,
I am surprised that they cannot see,
They love and care when I am at my peak,
Yet stay away from me when answers I seek.
I have renounced my heart and speak to my mind,
To be its master is to be a different kind.
Cold hearted I am thanks to you,
With these words that tell you nothing
I bid adieu!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Chicken curry for the teenage soul
You know, when even one small thing goes wrong in my life, all the "sins" I have ever done flashes through my mind. How much ever I try to shut the latest version of this flash video player, I cannot bring myself to ignore it.
Not that I feel guilty, I feel a lot more than that. Trouble is, I don't know if its normal to have stuff like that flashing through your head. I don't think I want to be labeled as chronically depressed, because I am not. Neither am I putting on an attitude.
I am not making sense now am I? That ain't normal too right? No. I am not insecure.
It all started with me offering the three tickets I got for the latest blockbuster to my family. We are family of four. I specifically asked for three. I chose to stay back that Sunday and study for my upcoming examinations.
My parents and younger brother left that morning for the show. During the time I was alone at home, I got a call from my maternal grandparents. My grandmother had prepared some chicken curry and offered to send across a portion... a sizable one... to me.
I did not readily agree, knowing fully well my mother's temper would soar to the skies if she knew I had consumed chicken days before an exam.
It was after this initial nonchalance did I make my mistake. My stomach shoved my brain aside, and together with my watering tongue, diplomatically answered to my slightly disappointed grandmother to "wait till mummy gets back home".
And she did come back. So did my dad and brother. And I.... did not ask... but told her about the incident.
Needless to say, the expected was unexpectedly received by my poor self.
"How could they offer you.... food at home.... exams...... foolish.... stomach upset"
You get it right?
My tongue continued to water, but failed to operate as a medium of conversation. My mom got in touch with her parents and the negotiations began.
Now I know why the nuke deal is taking so long. After all, it was a plate of chicken... not global domination.
While the talks were on I made my second mistake, my eyes and my brows realized my mouth wasn't moving. So, they gestured to my mother on the phone.....
And the talks came to a bitter end.... " Send the Damn thing"..... and she banged down the phone.
I was pretty sure I heard music down there in my guts. But way up here, the workaholics and pragmatics in my brain were ready to bear the brunt of the expected onslaught.... mom.
The chicken came and I gorged. There were two portions, one being the rice already mixed with the curry and another vessel with the curry alone. I took the former, smaller portion.
My brother realized only after I finished my helping that I had had chicken for lunch. Now here is where I make my third mistake, as I was taking the last morsel, my brother took the same from me and tried to eat it. I told him to take the other vessel and eat it.
For some reason older and wiser siblings will never be able to fathom, the guy lost it....
"You have to share... bloody... goose..... &*%&^......"
You get it right?
I didn't get it.... I just sat with my empty plate and stared. That's when missile no. 2 was launched. In came my mom, and gave me her bit too!
"Sunday.... need peace.... fighting for food as if we are in Somalia.. chicken when exams are on...."
You get it right?
My parents and brother didn't talk to me the whole day. In fact, my parents didn't talk to me for days. My father kept asking me why I was sulking so much. And again, my not so slippery tongue did not come to my aid. Maybe you can count that as mistake no. 4.
I still don't get it why they reacted they way did. Life came back to normal with all of us promising to put it behind us.
But what hurts me till date is how murky things that come up irrespective of whether I cross the line or not.
Chicken before exams lead to snide sarcastic remarks of how I had watched a movie when I was not supposed to.... or how I came back home later than usual one day... or how I had a tough patch in my academics in class X 1st term... or maybe the time I made a ruckus not to quit college. Probably the period where theatre was the priority in my life.. Or the numerous other occasions when family had apparently taken a back seat.... and how I was like a non paying guest in my own home.
Its funny and scary. Scary cause, I don't think I want to be reminded about the numerous curfews I have breached. Funny?
Funny because, never after doing something good or achieving something praiseworthy, do I hear of my previous laurels.
You get it right?
Maybe its the parents' way of reminding us what NOT to do. We are all teenagers with big dreams and bigger egos. Why do we go through such roads? Why does chicken for lunch lead to so much reminiscence of pain? Why do I have so many unanswered questions?
Wait.. unanswered questions... that isn't normal is it?
AND for the last time... NO... I am not insecure.
Not that I feel guilty, I feel a lot more than that. Trouble is, I don't know if its normal to have stuff like that flashing through your head. I don't think I want to be labeled as chronically depressed, because I am not. Neither am I putting on an attitude.
I am not making sense now am I? That ain't normal too right? No. I am not insecure.
It all started with me offering the three tickets I got for the latest blockbuster to my family. We are family of four. I specifically asked for three. I chose to stay back that Sunday and study for my upcoming examinations.
My parents and younger brother left that morning for the show. During the time I was alone at home, I got a call from my maternal grandparents. My grandmother had prepared some chicken curry and offered to send across a portion... a sizable one... to me.
I did not readily agree, knowing fully well my mother's temper would soar to the skies if she knew I had consumed chicken days before an exam.
It was after this initial nonchalance did I make my mistake. My stomach shoved my brain aside, and together with my watering tongue, diplomatically answered to my slightly disappointed grandmother to "wait till mummy gets back home".
And she did come back. So did my dad and brother. And I.... did not ask... but told her about the incident.
Needless to say, the expected was unexpectedly received by my poor self.
"How could they offer you.... food at home.... exams...... foolish.... stomach upset"
You get it right?
My tongue continued to water, but failed to operate as a medium of conversation. My mom got in touch with her parents and the negotiations began.
Now I know why the nuke deal is taking so long. After all, it was a plate of chicken... not global domination.
While the talks were on I made my second mistake, my eyes and my brows realized my mouth wasn't moving. So, they gestured to my mother on the phone.....
And the talks came to a bitter end.... " Send the Damn thing"..... and she banged down the phone.
I was pretty sure I heard music down there in my guts. But way up here, the workaholics and pragmatics in my brain were ready to bear the brunt of the expected onslaught.... mom.
The chicken came and I gorged. There were two portions, one being the rice already mixed with the curry and another vessel with the curry alone. I took the former, smaller portion.
My brother realized only after I finished my helping that I had had chicken for lunch. Now here is where I make my third mistake, as I was taking the last morsel, my brother took the same from me and tried to eat it. I told him to take the other vessel and eat it.
For some reason older and wiser siblings will never be able to fathom, the guy lost it....
"You have to share... bloody... goose..... &*%&^......"
You get it right?
I didn't get it.... I just sat with my empty plate and stared. That's when missile no. 2 was launched. In came my mom, and gave me her bit too!
"Sunday.... need peace.... fighting for food as if we are in Somalia.. chicken when exams are on...."
You get it right?
My parents and brother didn't talk to me the whole day. In fact, my parents didn't talk to me for days. My father kept asking me why I was sulking so much. And again, my not so slippery tongue did not come to my aid. Maybe you can count that as mistake no. 4.
I still don't get it why they reacted they way did. Life came back to normal with all of us promising to put it behind us.
But what hurts me till date is how murky things that come up irrespective of whether I cross the line or not.
Chicken before exams lead to snide sarcastic remarks of how I had watched a movie when I was not supposed to.... or how I came back home later than usual one day... or how I had a tough patch in my academics in class X 1st term... or maybe the time I made a ruckus not to quit college. Probably the period where theatre was the priority in my life.. Or the numerous other occasions when family had apparently taken a back seat.... and how I was like a non paying guest in my own home.
Its funny and scary. Scary cause, I don't think I want to be reminded about the numerous curfews I have breached. Funny?
Funny because, never after doing something good or achieving something praiseworthy, do I hear of my previous laurels.
You get it right?
Maybe its the parents' way of reminding us what NOT to do. We are all teenagers with big dreams and bigger egos. Why do we go through such roads? Why does chicken for lunch lead to so much reminiscence of pain? Why do I have so many unanswered questions?
Wait.. unanswered questions... that isn't normal is it?
AND for the last time... NO... I am not insecure.
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