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10月17日 Mumbai Local GrindMusty smell Pervades As skins connect Talcum powder, perfumes, Sweat Intermingle Arouse Waves of nausea
Languages echo Like a dull din All around As Her head swims; The clanking wheels Remain The only signs Of Sanity. 10月10日 Christ and anti-christ?A catholic or jesuit or general and other christian (I am not sure which) friend told me that Jesus Christ died at the age of 33 years. Then he said that he was supposed to have been re-incarnated as a woman. But the woman is anti-christ! So, he said that he believes that all 33 year old women should be punished.
This happened many years ago. But it kind of scares me now.
What kind of blind belief is this? What kind of madness is this?
It is almost akin to religious terrorism.
I just hope that he does not expect 33 year old women to die because he believes they are anti-christ.
And I hope he is reading this.
I told his priest.
And his priest had roared with laughter and promised to tackle this in a sermon.
So far I have not heard from him.
I sure hope that he sees some sense in this.
Or perhaps he was joking. I sure hope so.
10月6日 The Water LilySoft petals Smooth Floating on Ripples - a raft. Stones splash Wet petals Crumpled Deep waters Wide ripples Drowning petals. 10月5日 PlasmaAir vibrates
It knocks Sound stabs
It hits Rancid odour
Invades Like the amoeba
It lacks form Like the bamboo curtain
Shields a hot post office from invisible dust This plasma It deafens You This plasma
It invades
You This plasma
It is all around You Like dead skin Of Ghosts Perhaps This plasma Which has no form Lives 10月2日 A CRAB'S LIFE
Surf descends rapidly Cloaking you, I, with darkness Until tides ebb ************************* Red crabby feet sift Sand gives way to foamy, white ocean Time is to lay eggs ********************************** The sea, the sea, the beautiful sea The savage, the untamed, the unbridled sea The grey, the blue, and the pearly-white sea In thy arms is eternal rest, O sea!
9月24日 When the angels fledThe minutes
Stopped The hours faded Time lost all meaning. The vast space around
Stared Blanketed With a quilt. A hand reached out to mine
It groped To grip mine In the bewildering mist. The fog parted a bit To let The moon light Upon us through the night. The moment of truth
Stood Naked It mocked at our plight That of two lost souls Immortalised Forever As even their angels took flight. 9月21日 Being Terrorized
I was scared too. A fact that I hate to admit. 7/11 was the worst day of my life. A day I would rather have died. I have not been able to step into a train since then without carrying my heart in my throat. I returned by road that day. Only to feel terrorised on the way as we got stuck for hours in the jam. For hours, I could not get in touch with my mom or just about anyone. Just darkness all around. And people walking on the roads. Crowds and crowds. In spite of that I was alone, almost on the brink of hysteria. I did manage to tune into FM though. And all I heard was confusion about the number of bombs, about the number of the dead. Ambulances were trying to tear through the jam. Sirens of police vehicles and fire brigades shrieked through the night. Nothing, nothing had terrorised me so much before. It became worse as it just brought back awful memories of the '93 blasts. Of the communal riots that followed. Of hatred and of fear. The same fear I had experienced when the rioters threw bottles at our windows, in the 1984 riots. I was younger then, but very scared. And I can barely write about anything else since then. My heart still hurts as it bumps inside when I think of that evening. Will it ever stop? This terror? Or will I become immune to it too? I wonder. 9月18日 Graveyard of memoriesHer body is a graveyard. A collection Of unmarked graves Of unknown soldiers From unknown wars. Her body is a graveyard. A collection Of unknown ghosts. All those shot By the single bullet. Her body is the graveyard Where life still exists Fresh as the flowers Sprouting from their graves. Her body is this graveyard Where forever they lie buried. 7月17日 Tolerance and Zero ToleranceDo age old Gandhian principles matter now? All the more so.
So many rumours floated immediately after the blasts, as communal hatred simply sparked in pockets of both Maharashtra and Gujarat. Can you recognize this animosity within yourself and still live with it without influencing your friend to think the same? Can you fight this animosity and reason with it?
Well educated persons expressed their anger at another community after the attacks. They were convinced that the blasts were the handiwork of a hostile community - aimed solely at one community. How do I convine someone like them? Can you?
At the most, you can tell them to tolerate and live with the hatred...till they can get rid of it? Will they go ahead and take up arms? I don't think so. But would they end up instigating such acts? I don't know.
While such acts must, as someone said, be met with 'zero tolerance' - the perpetrators of such acts have to be met with tough measures. At the same time, these acts must not be allowed to cause further divides in a torn communal fabric, whose holes have to be darned with a thread so strong, that a small tear will not be able to rip it apart.
A columnist had once written an article on communal hatred, entitled "The Centre Collapsed". The centre she talked about was the centre that held the communities together - that delicately balanced needs and beliefs of one religion with that of another. The pivot which balanced the two has, she said, irrevocably collapsed. But I argue, a collapsed centre can be repaired - it can be rebuilt. Surely, we have not reached a stage where the collapse is irrevocable. If we let 'terrorist arms' collapse our centre yet again, then perhaps the fabric has more holes then we thought it to have. Then truly, the darners have a lot more work now, then they thought possible.
Can you list ten positive strong threads that will make it impossible for anyone to rip this fabric again?
7月2日 My first glimpse of snow.Vast expanses of yellow mustard fields rolled by, as we sped towards our destination in the Himalayas. The fields gave way to tree lined roads, once the ascent began. The winding roads, with numerous zig zag turns, slowed us down quite a bit. Soon enough, we came to a full halt. The driver turned around and explained that, it was a mid morning 'chai' halt. Whew! For a moment, I thought the vehicle had given way! The engine did need to cool down, but atleast it was working fine. A couple of tea shacks were standing at the edge of the road, precariously built on the edge of the mountain track. Just beyond , the road sloped downwards towards a stream. The cool air was a quite a relief after the cramped interiors of the vehicle. The wind hit our faces with full force as we stood around and sipped the hot, sweet cardomom tea from tiny glasses. Just beyond, we could see the tall, snow capped peaks. The snow glistened as the sun rays bounced off, making it look almost golden. A sudden shiver made me wonder, how high the peaks really were. Soon we were on our way again. As we ascended further, the air got cooler and the sky, a bit cloudy. A slow drizzle gave way to heavy rains and we pulled up at the side of the road. The headlights flickered as the passengers got uncomfortable and wondered whether we would ever reach our destination. The drivers of the entire entourage seemed to be engrossed in a deep consultation. Soon enough, a decision had been made and we were informed that a small detour would be made, until the driving conditions had improved. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a clearing. A few cottages were scattered across the grassy slope. The ground was all wet with mud, and the rains were still affecting our visibility. Somehow, we made our way through the grass and mud, to the cottages. The interiors were warm, with huge bare rooms. These were some kind of lodges meant for overnight stays. The driver informed us that if things got worse, we might have to put up here for the rest of the day and the night! Oh well, atleast there were fireplaces. And the place was relatively dry. An old man in a long overcoat asked us if we would like tea, and we all nodded happily. Some of us trailed along into the kitchen. A huge stove with a black 'chimney ' was lit. And a 'samovar' was kept atop. The tea was already steaming. We were all served incredibly hot tea with some biscuits. The old man beamed happily, as we gulped it down to warm our insides. Indeed, hospitality was really important to him. He handed some blankets to us, to keep ourselves warm, as the downpour continued outside. A merry twinkle in his old eyes and wrinkled face, indicated that he had stories he could tell. Stories of travellers and stories of the mountains. I wondered what his life was like. Did he do anything besides looking after tired and hungry travellers? A few minutes later, the old man came in with some tapestry work. He started stitching. I watched in fascination, as those lined hands expertly wove in and out of the cloth he was carrying. Perhaps he was mending a tear or making a new tablecloth. From time to time, he looked up and beamed at us. He sure seemed happy to have some human company. He had an interesting thimble with him. I went up to his side and asked him what he was doing. He just nodded and went on stitching, I pointed to his thimble. He immediately took it off and gave it to me to look at. Old metal thing, with some blue paint and intricate design.I was fascinated by the little thing which seemed to talk of better times. He smirked, as I tried it on. And patiently waited till I satisfied my curiosity and handed it back. Then, he indicated that I should go inside, to the kitchen. At first, I hesitated, but then I went. An old lady whom I had not seen before, looked up as I went in. An unsmiling face made me hesitate, but she motioned that I should sit. She was drinking tea from a metal glass and offered me some. I politely declined and she seemed to be happy about that. Meanwhile the rain outside had stopped. A sun ray stole in through the window and flickered on the wooden floor, as the clouds made their way across the sky. Shouts from the driver made us all rush outside, and slosh through the muddy grass to return to our vehicles. We waved farewell, as the vehicles pulled out with great speed, splashing mud onto the windows. The drivers were now speeding with a great deal of urgency, hardly giving us the time to glance at our surroundings. The road was dipping up and down the mountains, winding its way through woody patches at times and bare patches at others. A lot of rivulets had formed and we were constantly splashing through the waterfalls caused by melting ice. We were lucky that there had been no landslides. As we climbed further, the skies seemed to clear completely,with no sign of the rains. After a couple of hours more, we finally reached a point where the ground was white...covered with sheets of snow. The air coming in through our nostrils was chilly. I could feel the tip of my nose freezing over. Cardigans, gloves, mufflers, and woollen caps with ear flaps, were pulled out and dorned hastily. The vehicles came to a final halt before a group of cottages, with snow covered roofs. As we alighted, the blinding glare of the white snow hit our eyes. The sun was harsh, as it was just after noon. And glared down mercilessly,bouncing light off the snow. Wow! My first glimpse of snow and it almost blinded me. I went excitedly towards the white ground and stepped on it gingerly,only to leap back in alarm. Footwear! I needed better footwear. The snow was cold, and hard - not soft as I had imagined it to be. These were sheets of ice - old snow, they said. After being properly clad in snow boots, I finally managed to make my way across the ice sheets, to the slopes where the ice was still 'snow'. Soon enough, most of us were dodging snowballs. My face was icy cold, I was shivering and my nose was red. I was breathing ice, and feeling the cold on my cheeks like never before. A friend decided to pull me for a sled ride. A sled ride that promised to last a lifetime...! Yes, there was plenty of time to see this snow, as I was sure I would be here for a while. I made my way back, to the row of cottages. There were a couple of shops there, a sweet shop, a shop of curios and yes, a coffee shop too! Whoa- Coffee! We made a beeline for it. Rushed in and settled ourselves in huge woollen chairs. Bearers in uniforms brought us hot coffee. It was an unforgettable experience. Sipping on hot coffee and watching the white expanse outside. Raw excitement gripped me and I looked forward to my next few days in this snowy paradise. Childhood experiences are often forgettable. But when details are sketchy, impressions remain. Impressions of the white capped mountains, lavender and pink skies, tall green trees, soft pink and yellow blossoms, rose and iris gardens with tulips and lotus scattered among them. Impressions of vast exapnses of deep blue lakes, of distant hamlets full of smiling people, of children waving from the streets, of shy faces peeping from behind barred windows, of giddy headed villagers staring at us. Impressions that only travelling in our country can bring. 6月30日 Misty thoughtsA well trodden path opened up as the mists cleared the air. Soft moisture droplets rested on the myriad plants along the path. Small mud puddles and slippery pebbles were strewn across the entire trail. I made my way past the narrow bends and trails, climbing higher and higher. And I was glad I did.
The flat table top stretched into the mists. Beyond the edge was a sheer drop. Looking down would have made anyone giddy. The mists lifted a little to reveal stretches of mountains. Occassionally, the clouds rolled by.
I breathed in some fresh air and sweet scent of the mountains.
The complete peace was in such stark contrast to the noise in the cities.A silence which allows you to commune with nature and with the gods.
The beauty about the mountains is in the silence at the top. Life exists peacefully, noiselessly. Plants grow, birds wing by, and perhaps wanderers like me occassionally climb to the top.Somewhere in the background, the sound of water gurgling past rocks and
pebbles and down the mountain, penetrated through the mists.
I found my way to the well hidden cottage.I sat on the porch, breathing in the beauty of the scene.
The wet grass waved slowly in the breeze.
As the day passed slowly into noon, some mild sun rays penetrated through the mist, the only indication that the hours were passing. Occassionally, a kite screeched by. Or a bird whistled slowly. The noon passed into evening and I still sat there and meditated. Noon gave way to night.
The darkness enveloped me in an instant. In the far distance, I could see tons of glowing stars. The skies were incredibly clear at night. Almost no mist. No rain. Just the stars and a bright moon. The constellations twinkled brightly across the wide navy blue skies. The moon turned pink and grey at the edges when an occassional cloud crossed over. Playing hide and seek. It seemed as if the light had been dimmed for a while, until the cloud passed by completely. Just a day and a night, and an entire lifetime seemed to have been spent. Yes, the days were all the same here on the mountain top. Each and everyone of them. Just the quiet knowledge, that time stood still in a strange way for me.
And today, I silently thank the doctor who had operated on my legs and enabled me to walk and to climb up so high today. 6月29日 Rain-It's all around.Rains - a topic suggestion by a muse who finally goaded me into writing something.
"Within or outside", I asked.
"It's all around", he said.
True. It's all around. I am breathing rain, are you?
The rains are finally here. But instead of the monsoon magic they used to create, instead of the charm and the romance , instead of the hot corn off the cob and spicy chanas, the rains now create a sense of fear and anxiety. Yes, the average person in Mumbai no longer greets the rain with a smile on his face. Is the monsoon magic lost forever - to be replaced by dirty nallahs and stinking sidewalks? Has the soft pattering rain been replaced by thundering squalls, which deafen you and lash your face as you decide to walk around. Have the rain gods decided to be merciless this year as well? I wonder.
Well, this seems to be the writer's block, that not even the monsoons can melt.
5月15日 The sun on beachA slow lazy afternoon...the sun blazed gloriously, as the dog flopped around on the grass, with its sweaty tongue hanging out of its mouth. A couple of butterflies twittered around the tall red and yellow lilies. Otherwise, nothing seemed to be astir, not even the smallest of breezes.
A car came to a screeching halt somewhere. Doors banged and pieces of conversation drifted around the air for a while. But those too faded away, as the people probably moved into the cool lobby of the resort.
Just across the park was a tiny gate, which led to the calm desultory sea. The bright rays bounced off the creamy sand and the white pebbles. A couple of beach bums were still loitering around, hoping to salvage some interesting thingies that the morning busload of tourists may have left behind.
The hot summer afternoons with a slow rise in temperatures, kept even the flies away.
In the distance, I could hear some faint strains of what sounded like reggae music. It slowly got louder and another beach bum appeared with a black sleek cassette recorder. Dressed in bright flouroscent green slacks, he also carried with him a basket full of wine bottles. He came in through the park gate and planted himself onto one of the beach chairs, strewn randomly in the resort's park.
Soon enough, he uncorked a bottle and emptied its contents. The music continued to play and he continued to drink. A resort attendant came out and watched him for a while. However, a mere shake of his hand sent him scuttling back into the hotel. Soon enough, the dog wandered over and squatted on its hindlegs in front of him, with its tongue hanging out. The 'bum' threw an empty bottle at him. He licked it dry and kept licking it, like the drunken dog that it was.
A drunken dog, a drunkard and reggae - was I in India? Perhaps not...maybe this was Hawaii or the Bermudas or worse. To add to the atmosphere was a sweet, heady smell of some tropical flower(probably just jasmine), freshly chopped pineapple , coconut and groundnut. Could we get more tropical? I wonder.
All I needed was another sip of the pina colada, before I too slipped away into a dreamy haze of an afternoon nap on the beach. This was a heavenly holiday indeed.
So, is that what made you go green with envy, huh? 12月17日 Jungle babblersSomething like the jungle babblers- the seven sisters who spread rumours in the jungles.Unfortunately, these jungles are concrete instead. Have you seen these ugly creatures? Tiny brown birds who crowd the bushes and babble, babble, babble until they chase the other beautiful birds away. These babblers are quite useless, you know, except for creating a din and disturbing peace. Things humans can be arrested for.
And then there are the cicadas and the crickets. They make enough noise in the jungle to keep the animals company. Perhaps, they too have migrated to the cities. If you see or hear these creatures, do get in touch with me.
12月3日 Too bad...or is it?Perhaps the lapwing stopped speaking. Perhaps the hawks stopped fighting. And the pigeons stopped kissing. And the silence that ensued was deafening. On a still breezeless night The trees wailed After they had finished laughing. An aircraft roar woke up the world. And I laughed. As did the trees, the cuckoos and the other birds. Too bad Godot did not make it for the final curtains. Too bad the play did not work that well. Too bad we met, the way we did.
But the show still goes on. The planet still goes around the sun. And life still throbs through our veins. And you and I are still breathing. For how long though, I wonder. 11月26日 Tell it to the treesMagpie robins, tickells flowerpeckers, sunbirds, hummingbirds,shrikes...they are all out in full splendour. Winter's here. And they want to be seen,it seems! Kites are hovering in the skies , fighting, staking their territorial claims! And all this on busy roads. All they need is a few trees. How long will these last though? Not long, esp. if we cannot build our roads around them. Not long, if we chop down a 100 years of growing trees. Someone once said that "when you have a problem. Just go and tell the trees. They take it all in..." Perhaps the whisper of their breeze will calm you down. Perhaps the leaves will shake off your troubles. And the birds might tell you what to do. Yes, these are the mute (or perhaps not so mute) witnesses to the days of the Raj! Perhaps even the mughals before them and probably even the rajputs. The Chipko movement evolved for these trees.People have died for these trees. Do we need to chop them down? Perhaps, I should ask the trees this. 11月20日 Tame the deer.And, if on the busy roads,amidst all the traffic, you actually spot a koel being chased by the crow..then yes, the birds have adjusted to urban life.
As have those sambars. who wandered out of the protected national park, to the vast roads of the western express highway.Their predators are now in the form of speeding vehicles, which might just knock them over. Perhaps, the government should really allow the deer and their like to live in some of our public and private parks. They might attract the monkeys and the birds and perhaps, Mumbai might just become more verdant in the future. Provided that people don't kill them for their meat, or their shiny coats, or their hidden treasure of kasturi.
If the greedy make a pact not to kill them, it might be a good idea to tame them instead. 11月17日 The little birdie told me this...You would never imagine that industrial glasshouses and shanties of commercial Mumbai would have attracted golden orioles and drongos...but they do. Amidst all the dump,you will find an old tree by the side of the road, or a puddle made by a broken drainage pipe, attracting not just housesparrows, but crowpheasants, and orioles. a chirp here, and a nest there -all for those who care to see. You run to green spaces for peace and fresh air. But, if you carry the noise in your head with you, not even the trees will help you with this. And what do you do about that noise, anyway? Tell the little bird who comes to rest in the branches of the tree...so that, it can pass on the message. And your friend will say,'a little birdie told me this.'!
11月7日 Fragrances of Tangier?The endless din of the marketplace drowned the sounds of the vehicles honking, desperately trying to weave their way through the traffic. The hawkers yelled loudly, as ramzan shoppers crowded their stalls in the bylanes of bhendi bazaar. Women in black robes, old men with flowing beards, and white lace caps, young men in colourful kurtas, and embroidered topis, all laughing happily as they broke their daily fast. Children rushed around with excited looks on their faces, as ferris wheels crowded the narrow bylanes. The sweet shops were crowded, and the smell of fresh, hot, gulab jamuns wafted through the air. Intricately embroidered cotton, and silk kurtas, and salwar suits hung in the doorways, along with rugs, and mats depicting scenes, and symbols of Islamic culture.
Further down, the tall, white and green minarets of mosques, towered above, beckoning the faithful - a constant reminder for prayers yet to be said. The shoe shops, and the sweet shops were gradually replaced by the beautiful attar shops. Crystal bottles of all shapes, and sizes adorned the windows. Intoxicating, and heady smells of rose, saffron, jasmine,sandalwood, and undefinable fragrances transported me elsewhere. Almost making me wonder if, I were indeed, in an arabian desert city,where the oasis was just around the corner and where omens were important, where Paul Coelho's boy found a way to make his dreams come true,where buried treasures and alchemists resided in tiny hamlets, and sleepy towns were full of such markets.
Sigh! No, I was very much in bhendi bazaar, one of the most crowded spots in Mumbai. And the slow moving, noisy, vehicles were there to bring me out of this reverie. 9月3日 Life's lessonsLife's lessons What I have learnt so far: You can't click on undo in life. So, Think before you Act. Anyway I sought peace but found strife anyway. I sought wealth but found many uses for it anway. I sought friends and found a few selfish ones anyway. I sought sunny skies but found clouds anyway. I sought blessings but found some curses anyway. I did not seek trouble but found some anyway. I did not seek sorrow but found some anyway. I did not seek joy but found some anyway. I did not seek love but found some anyway. I did not seek chaos but found some anyway. I did not seek God but found God anyway. I did not seek solitude but found solitude anyway. So, Seek not and you shall find....Anyway.
As some alter-ego once said: "The worlds we sought were never the ones we got and the worlds we got were not the ones we bargained for." |
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