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Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Today, as I remember it all, I find plenty of things I could write about. But then I'm completely blank the very next moment. I guess that happens when there's too much to pour, and too small an outlet. And with this six-month-full database of moments, each moment brimming with 'memories-dreams-imaginations-emotions-and-what-nots', and with this limited capacity to express, I feel handicapped. I'm forced to think that maybe it was not just laziness. Maybe it was this handicap that's been preventing me from blogging all this while. Maybe this handicap is what has left me speechless.
Tell me. Aren't you left speechless when you look back at your life, and realize that for a good twenty years of your life, everything appeared meaningless to you, and then suddenly just when you're turning twenty-one, everything starts falling into place, in a perfectly meaningful scheme of things? Doesn't it amaze you when you feel yourself waking up from an ignorant slumber, replacing the imposter that had been charade-ing your existence all your life? How do you bring yourself to give vent to it all? Or, let us paraphrase it in a more profound manner:
If you were BORN with an absolute capacity to communicate perfectly in all manners possible for a human, and with the level of consciousness, intelligence, cognition and emotional ripeness of a twenty-one-year-old, what would be your first words? Or even first thoughts? And what'd it be that you'd want to communicate the most?
Now, as obscure as it may sound, expressing myself right now would be a good approximation to sketching the practical extrapolation of the philosophical speculation in the italics above. From nothingness, to the highest form of consciousness, this other me has not taken too long a time. There's less clarity, and a lot of incomprehensibility, and describability. Its easier to talk in images, because images have tentacles that protrude in all directions and dimensions, and thus can express even the things that remain to be comprehended. Like a record playing a symphony.
Talking of images, there are a few that have found permanent foothold for themselves in my mind. A noisy steamer bubbling with people, a windy summer evening, a majestic river bridge, a riotous river stretching almost as far as one's vision can reach, scintillating city lights all around- neither too close nor too far. Nice setting, ain't it? Let us get the details in.
The steamer ride from Fairley Place to the Howrah Railway station sometime back is one image that fails to escape the bastion of my reminiscences. It was beautiful with the vessel cutting through the voluminous Hooghly below, and the Howrah Bridge glowing a delightful yellow at a distance. The cool wind was caressing my hair incessantly, relieving me of the tortures the day temperature, and a few other things, had showered upon me. It seemed to me as if the copper evening was making love to the world around me. The day had been one of the most unfortunate ones one could ever wish for.. But somehow the approaching night seemed to hold great promise of a gorgeous morning gestating inside its belly. I like to think of that tiny journey as being symbolic of the transition I was going through. From nothingness to being. From despair to joy. From slumber to awakening. From the nonsensical to the meaningful. From the life(or maybe, the absence of it) I had all my life.. to the life I was about to have for the rest of my life.
Coming to the philosophical question we pondered on again, I think my first word would be 'Wow' or any of its synonymous expressions, single-worded or otherwise. The first thought would be that of gratitude, albeit towards no-one, or nothing in particular. And I suppose I'd be dying to communicate to the audience, how I find this thing called life that I have inherited, or acquired or whatever, so darn exciting, and so beautiful!
I bring that image back on, and reminisce across it once again. It appears even more heartwarming than on the previous occasion. It refuses to wane or wither, no matter how many times, and for how long I think about it. I wonder what is it about it that makes it linger on. I wonder why it makes me say 'Wow' to myself. I wonder why I feel grateful for having had those moments. And I wonder why I so wanted to communicate this to all of you who read my blog, or are going to read it!
Going through the reel again... Wait a minute. Have I told you about the girl who was standing by my side all the while on the steamer? Oh, I didn't?
Okay. Go back to the lines where I was telling you about the transition, and add this tiny li'l bit to the 'from-to' drift: From singlehood to coupledom! ;-)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
overcast with a hundred shrouds, sky’s blaze cutting in,
like on a wet September day.
The hands of reach, shutting in,
like a bug engulfed in the cattle’s hay.
A pompous carnival, of memories
breaks loose inside, and takes
me to those pygmy trees,
and birthday chocolate cakes..
and desires’ blameless luxuries.
Summer mornings lazily spent,
amid Disney-ed breakfast, and the pet cartoon.
And excited evenings dispensed many a vent,
to man’s erstwhile conquest of the moon.
(That’s how my Dad’s car got that ugly dent!)
NASA plans, voiced gleefully aloud,
resonated prettily with Monica’s cloning schemes.
O how nice it was then, when the world allowed
wishful thinking, and maniacal dreams,
nursed in restless hearts- fertile orchards, rich and boughed!
Complain boxes, obligingly hearing
your naive grudges against your pals,
housed your silent curses, tearing
apart vengeful walls, for who else shall
embank hate’s constant raring?
And Oh, those enchanting Christmas eves!
The wise men from the east!
Embellished, sparkling, X-mas trees!
The comely mass, and the following feast!
O how we conjectured, what Santa leaves!
Today, as you stand facing me,
the morning dew shining on your skin,
like diamonds glistering disarmingly.
I manoeuvre through a mandatory tailspin
into the burrow of past, so blaringly!
The frost settled on your luscious pout,
melts in the heat of your ignited breath.
And your moony eyes distinctly tout,
a redolent foray into the discontented death
of the past’s distant, fanciful shout.
And like the transcendence into a mighty superhero,
like the pursuit of hundred, and like the despisal of zero.
You choose to be an oneiric temptation,
an alluring nirvana, an awaited vacation,
a seat at NASA, a place on the moon,
Santa’s arrival (that ain’t pretty soon!),
a much hunted crown, yet another Dolly,
at times a feat, at times a folly,
a promotion deserved, a pending complaint,
a road unpaved, an uncanonized saint,
an ascent of the K-two, a shot at the Nobel,
eye-feast of the ball, the charming ‘la belle’.
So, don’t just stand off there, you eluding delight.
You’re all mine, or I’m dead, downright, outright!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
You come across her when you least expect to. While shopping in a supermarket, or browsing through a bookstore, or maybe in a hospital where you're having your regular check-up. In my case, it was during a train journey. The 'my kinda girl'. Ohkay.. not just my 'kinda' girl. The one of whose type I had desired the most. Pretty as hell. Feminine as hell. Graceful as hell. Elegant as hell. And those two goddamn dimples punctuating that 'one hell of a smile'. Hell.. She looked every bit 'my lady'! She talked like a dream. And with every minute movement she made, my heart felt like a huge bomb about to explode. Ohkay.. all of this sounds pretty cliché. But the cliché is cliché because it happens.. isn't it?
I've pushed it up, I've pulled it down.
I've fed on shakes, eggs and bread,
So on a beefed-up chest, you could rest your head !
So here is this gorgeous co-commuter who's just entered the compartment. I help her with the luggage. She says a gentle li'l 'thanx'. Everything perfect so far. This could be a beginning.. an inconsequential looking minor incident spiraling our lives into eventually merging with each other's, irreversibly. Two catches though. One, she was accompanied by a boy who in my opinion wasn't her brother (for the simple reason that he wasn't 'beautiful' enough to qualify.. and even if he was, I wouldn't say it for he was f*in accompanying the girl !). And two, I had to get down in, lets say, 20 minutes. But those weren't immediate worries for me. In fact, nothing was a worry for me, for I was already in a dreamland. With whom is anybody's guess. Troilus and Criseyde. Me Troilus, she Criseyde.
'By god,' quod he, 'I hoppe alwey byhynde!'
Then Romio-Juliet, Sohni-Mahiwal, Jack-Rose, Om-Angelina took turns. I kept looking at her. I managed to spot a few unintentional (or were they?) glances from her side too. I beamed at the prospect of her finding me desirable. Shuttling between reality and fantasy, I thought of the ways to initiate a conversation. Asking her the time. Damn, I had a watch on my wrist. Maybe telling her that her luggage is about to fall. I glanced at her bags. Stationed perfectly where they were supposed to be. The pantry boy brings in tea. Offering her a cup, on me, seemed okay. It could appear as being purely out of civil etiquette. And offering the guy she was with one, would eliminate the obvious chances of doubt over my intentions. Tea is known to be one damn good conversation starter anyways. Perfect !
But.. I hesitated. What if she turns down?
Oh how I wish I didn't fear rejection !
Meanwhile, in a place separated by an un-traversable distance from where all of us were, the sea was on a boil. Waves the size of towering mountains tossed the mighty ship at their will. The wild waters were black as coal, whitening occasionally with sudden bolts of lightning setting them ablaze momentarily. The unfriendly clouds above wrapped the stars in a thick blanket of gray, showering harshly on the crew. Solarus, the son of the great Enormus, the mighty emperor of Magnania, stood on the deck - unfazed, unperturbed, fearless..
This was no time for fear. Let the others dread the unusual hostility of the sea. They weren't as dauntless. They weren't as powerful. And most of all, they didn't have the conviction of that dream. A dream that Solarus remembered creeping into his unsuspecting sleep like rainwater seeping through layers of the earth, to the very bedrock, seven nights ago. A dream that had kept him up, wide awake, restless ever since. A dream that was so real it took him an hour of interrogations to those around, to realize it wasn't real. And even after he realized that, he believed in it. He believed in what he saw. He believed that on an island somewhere on the east, there was a Marvelina. And he believed she was as beautiful as she was in his dream. Marvelina, a maiden so fair that he was almost blinded on the first sight, his eyes left galvanized by the infinite aura of light that surrounded her. And her pink skin, radiant against the halo at her back, and the highs and lows on it, had made his heart forget its most basic function - the perpetual duty of beating. .
No heaven I seek, take you instead.
All I desire, lies in your eyes
between your thighs, my paradise !
She fluttered her eyelids there.. and here, he heard a thousand bagpipes at once. Blended notes - love and longing. Blended notes - heartleap and heartache. Blended notes - Marvelina and Solarus. Cased exquisitely in two beautiful dolphinous eyes, were the lake blue pupils - each detail discreet, each line etched flawlessly. And the way they asked Solarus to come to her, it was inescapable. The resolve that he made in the dream.. lingered on even when he was out of it. Restless as a deer with a arrow buried into its flesh, he went to the oracle, and told her about the dream. As he spoke, the oracle looked into his dreamy eyes and declared:
is she, who plagueth thee thus.
There be Marvelina - troubled, forlorn.
You she needeth. To the horizon, rush!
Today, as he faced the dungeon of unknown peril ahead, his only concern in the world was to get her and then love her like there's nothing else. There was no fear of death. Just the consistent fear that fate might reject his mad endeavor.
Oh how he wished he didn't fear rejection !