Smoke On the Window Sill

Sand in my Shoes

2007-08-05T22:40:00.000-04:00

It was the most perfect morning ever. I opened my eyes and looked outside far beyond the white veil of the curtain adorning our hotel room and all I could see was palm trees – two tall ones at an angle on either side of the huge window and a whole lot of them in the distance far ahead.

I wondered what was it that I loved so passionately about the barrenness of the desert – a love which has increased only fiercely over the years, each time I find myself close to the mountains and the empty vastness of the desert sky. They say there is a perfect landscape for each one of us – something that defines the elemental in us, something that draws us in completely and makes us want to melt away in its nothingness. If there was ever such a thing - then I can say with absolute conviction that for me it was this, right here, right now and for always – my love for the desert, in all its emptiness and all its glory....

I shifted my gaze from the window to behind me –A was still sleeping, peacefully. This trip had turned out to be quite a pleasant surprise after all. It was A’s treat to me – I am usually the trip planner for all our trips but this time around he did everything - right from the choice of the vacation destination, to the sight-seeing planning to the hotel booking, a room with a beautiful view right in the middle of the center tower, all the way to the top floor. And so far, it had been a dreamlike vacation. We checked in last night to this most amazing resort in San Diego with the perfect holiday vibe all around and not to mention the perfect weather!

By the time that we got out of the hotel it was noon and we spent the entire afternoon exploring the old downtown San Diego. As evening began to set in, we drove towards Coronado ‘Island’ which boasts of blue skies and white sands and is a popular holiday destination for many a travel folks. We parked the car and started walking down the main strip of restaurants in downtown Coronado. We went inside a hip, trendy coffee/sandwich place and were pleasantly greeted by live music sung by a pretty woman sitting on one corner of the room holding a guitar. I instantly fell in love with the vibe inside the place and interestingly even liked the food that I ordered! The thing about me is that I’m very fuzzy about food – and on top of that I’m a vegetarian and a non-salad eater! But there, that’s me and I have a hard time, well lets correct that - people who are with me have a hard time listening to the not-this, maybe-that game that I play when deciding about where-to-go. The usual word which goes around is that if I’m asking where to go – no one is supposed to 'really' answer to that question ;-)

So, we ate in absolute silence – A and I, listening to the beautiful songs being played around us one by one. There was a sheet lying on one side besides the bar stool where the pretty woman was singing and I noticed it was the list of the songs you could request her to play. I asked her if she could sing ‘Wind beneath my wings..’ and she said she sure would....

I’m amazed at people who can sing so well and often wonder how do they give their whole heart while singing something each and everytime. It’s a lot of emotional effort I think and it would surely drain me if I were them, singing in their place putting so much of myself, in every single piece. But she sang and she sang beautifully – and I loved it completely. I told her she had an amazing voice, to which she responded with a thanks and a wide open smile. It was a smile that I would never forget – it was a face that I could never forget - even today, almost a year after that day as I’m writing this, I can see her sitting in that coffee shop and playing another beautiful melody, singing another lovely song and making someone else’s life picture perfect....

A and I left the coffeeshop and walked down towards the beach. It was an amazing evening and the sun was setting somewhere in the distance, casting a soft vermilion hue onto the receding waters of the Pacific. There was white sand all along the stretch of the beach. We walked for a long time on the sand and took in all the happiness from the evening – a million sights and a zillion dreams, maybe some our own….We came back from the long walk and A decided to bury my feet deep in the sand. He made me sit on the blue-green beach towel and gathered in the sand all around me, onto my feet, while I was laughing endlessly and asking him to stop. A group of young women walking around us smiled approvingly at him and he told me that they too thought it was the most romantic thing to do. It was indeed, the sweetest thing ever – something I know I would remember for a long long time to come. If I close my eyes today and search for a memory so strong that would be the happiest of all in my entire life – this would be the closest to one…just those few moments - the setting tangerine sun, the endless waters of the ocean and A burying my feet all the way up in the white sand and making an impression on it which said – I love you…

It’s weird how you remember things, all of a sudden one fine day, sometimes after as long as a year. I was listening to this song from Dido called Sand in my shoes and the only thing I could think of was the San Diego beach and the white sand and the perfect vacation with A. And I can't help but sing along what she's sung so beautifully..

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you
I shake it all, forget you
Why, why would I want to
I know we said goodbye
Anything else would've been confused but I wanna see you again
I wanna see you again

Do you believe..in what you see?

2007-08-03T22:39:00.000-04:00

Was watching 'House' today and picked up this amazing song from the soundtrack at the end of the episode. Have been hooked to this song and singer since...it' so soulful...and so haunting....the voice and the lyrics...completely mesmerizing.... the song is called 'in the Waiting Line' , the album is Simple Things from Zero 7 and the singer is Sophie Barker..I had never heard of her before... she somehow reminds me of Emily Deschanel from 'Bones'...but now I'm in love with her voice...

Here is a link from youtube

Wait in line
'Till your time
Ticking clock
Everyone stop
Everyone's saying different things to me
Different things to me

Do you believe
In what you see
There doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me

Do you believe
In what you see
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real
Wasting my time
In the waiting line

Nine to five
Living lies
Everyday
Stealing time
Everyone's taking everything they can
Everything they can
Everyone's taking everything they can
Everything they can

Do you believe
In what you feel
It doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me

Ah and I'll shout and I'll scream
But I'd rather not have seen
And i'll hide away for another day...

Everyone's saying different things to me
Different things to me

Dhoop Kinaray...

2006-10-09T08:56:00.000-04:00

raat yun dil mein teri khoyi hui yaad aayi,
jaise veeraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye,
jaise sehraaoN mein haulay se chale baad-e-naseem,
jaise beemaar ko be-wajh qaraar aa jaaye

This is a ghazal by Nayyara Noor, which always puts me in a somber mood, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. I heard it long back in a very old Pakistani play called Dhoop Kinaray which I first saw when I was 15 or 16. I’ve grown up a lot on Pakistani influence in my household. Being from Punjab, very close to Amritsar, we used to catch Pakistani channels on our TV every now and then. My dad used to be a big fan of serials like Neelam Ghar, Bakra kishton pe, Budda ghar pe hai. Those are the precious memories from my childhood, when we used to sit together watching one of these absolutely hilarious plays and laugh all the way through. Among the serious ones, I remember watching Tum se kehna tha (ok, this was funny too!!), Tanhayian and Sitara aur Mehr-un-Nissa. I think all of them had Marina Khan in them and I was in love with this Pakistani TV personality at that time....

But my fondest memories are from Dhoop Kinaray – a play I used to watch over and over again during that time, but completely forgot about it for so many years in between. A few days ago, I found several old VHS of that play catching dust in my house and I couldn’t resist watching it again. Strangely enough, even after so many years it had the same effect on me….I was in love with every single bit of it. The play is about the intricacies of relationship between two people separated by a big chunk of age gap – but who fall in love with each other against all odds. I love the way the characters blend so well into their persona, the way they make you laugh and live every single bit of life -as it is, with all the blues and all the greys….

Even today, when I listen to the title song, it makes me want to believe in the idea of that one love, which will walk into my life stealthily one day and sweep me off the floor! Maybe it already has done so, who knows :) as for now, I’m rooted right here in the ground listening to this song on repeat, for the nth time.

Here is where you can listen to it too, and no I can’t translate it for you. I feel there is something so pure, so complete about urdu ghazals, that it defies the very idea of moulding it into any form other than it’s own. But if you must insist, here is a translation by Vikram Seth from Musings and Such

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze,
As, to a sick man, without cause, comes peace.

hmmmmm...on second thoughts if I had to change that translation to make the essence of the ghazal stay and not do a literal translation, I would have changed it to..

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze
As, a wound, for no reason, heals....

still doesn't do an iota of justice to the ethereal lyrics :)

Sweet compulsion...

2006-08-07T11:18:00.000-04:00

Taken at a bar last night, and no I wasn't drunk! :)

In Sepia..

And in colour..

To Closures...

2006-07-18T13:57:00.000-04:00

I listened hard to the rain beating outside my window pane last night… trying to make sense of the sudden emptiness that I had engulfed myself in, since a few days. As the rain washed down the window and the roof top, I remembered a similar night long back….a night when it was raining fearlessly too and I had immersed myself completely to the sound of acoustic guitar…all around me. Sprawled on my carpet, listening to the storm outside, I had let it drown all the pain inside of me – and had bid farewell to the memories of R….Remembering that evening today, I realized – that this too was maybe, a grieving process. Tonight, I was to let go of K...

I met him a little more than a year ago, through a friend of friend and in the first 2 months of meeting him, we quarrelled almost four times, seriously to say the least. He had told me upfront that he was interested in me and I had told him that I wasn’t and would never be. He could not understand why I wanted to go out with him, still. I had struggled hard to tell him that I like meeting people, knowing them and making friends. Choosing a life partner was not for me the only reason for getting to know a guy...

I thought we understood each other slowly over time and that he got to accept me and our friendship for what it was and not for what it could ever be. But on hindsight, I think that was not completely true. I could see him letting go of what was there between us -slowly, gradually over time and then suddenly one day..

He had asked once, if he would be for me, just another memory that will fade with time, and I had replied - ‘that would never be.’ But today, here I was - trying to let go of all the memories which belonged to him – of nostalgia, threaded to his being, of drives that we took together, of lonely evenings spent in cafeterias and of the talks which made me feel so comfortable and so light..

I do look back and regret the end, as I had always thought we’d be more open about our feelings towards each other, if ever there was a need to let go. But I think that I had undermined the hurt that I may have caused him over time, his dreams and his desires. So, I have no remorse or bitterness against him today or what he did. I wish him well and hope that he would look back and remember with fondness some of the time that we spent together – and instead of pebbles in the sand of broken dreams, he would chose to pick up the gems - the beautiful memories which strung us together for a short time...

So, here’s to closures and to breaking up of yet another lovely friendship. Long after the tears have dried, the wounds have healed and the green summer is traded for the vibrant autumn, what would stay with me is this faint memory of a beautiful evening spent together – when I took him with me to one of the sunset drives and swore never to take him again, jokingly- not knowing that it would become true, so true - one day...

The dying day..

The other side..

The tower lining...

The sprawled tree..

The closure..

Two lives and a dream

2006-07-11T13:20:00.000-04:00

It’s weird that I read all these stories today. This, this and this. Atra’s, ano’s and Shruthi’s blog. Weird because while I was coming home from work, I remembered something from my India trip a year back – something that I had long forgotten, but which made its way back into my memory this evening. When I reached home, somehow I found other things to keep me busy - chit-chat with friends, make dinner for the night and even bake a cake! Not until I read Atra’s blog and wandered off to others, did I realize that all I was doing till now was what I’ve become so good in doing these past few years - feign ignorance to some little things that have made a difference in my life, some things that I have really wanted to say for a while...

Last summer I happened to be in India when my younger brother M, was taking his engineering entrance exams. His last exam was the Delhi College of Engineering which took place in mid May sometime. It was a hot and sweltering day in Delhi and his centre was in the Shahadra area, quite far from where we were staying. I volunteered with dad to go with him to the test centre and since none of us were aware of the way to the centre, we decided to take a cab. It didn’t take us long to find the examination centre, as although the school where he had to go to, was in some narrow, busy street to the inside of some colony in Shahadra, but people around the area were aware of its whereabouts. The exam was at 10, I think and was to get over in 2 and a half hours or so. We decided to drop M and wait there only, for him to get back.

It was one of my first few days back in India. The days when I’m the most nostalgic about it all – the crowded streets, the raw mix of a hundred different smells, a zillion somber/colourful sights and finally the loud and blaring sounds of car honks. The few days when I’m the most unguarded with respect to my emotions and let myself soak up whatever I can find in the air around me.

So, dad and I took a seat in the back seat of our cab, in shade beneath a huge banyan tree and waited for my bro to finish his exam. I think I had got a book with me to read (although I’m having a hard time right now remembering which one) and dad had got two or three different Sunday newspapers with him (his idea of complete nirvana on a Sunday morning). I sat back in the cab and looked around. We were surrounded by auto-wallahs and cab wallahs almost exclusively, with a few personal cars parked here and there. Somewhere in some cab, someone switched on Radio Mirchi – and the song that started playing was 'Chura liya..', followed by some more nice old hindi songs and then some latest pop. There was something so light in the air about me, which gave an almost rosy picture to my surroundings. If someone had asked me that very moment how I was feeling, I would have happily said – content with my life. Except that within a few minutes, I was really hungry.

Far somewhere, beyond a corner I spotted a 'rehri' selling kulche-chole. Although I could see the stall, I could not catch a glimpse of the man behind it, as he was hidden from my sight by the colony entrance gate. I told my dad that I wanted to eat chole-kulche and he immediately shooted off warning signs to me saying that I had just come, I shouldn’t eat all that, mom would get angry if she knows, etc, etc. But I was not to be deterred. Within minutes I was suffering hunger pangs to really really go eat some junk and I managed to coax dad into coming along. So, both of us started off towards the rehri-waala. What I saw when I approached the stall, was a small rehri holding a big kadai which was placed diagonally upright, supported on some canisters, a 'tava' to warm the bread up and a couple of newspaper pieces placed somewhere in the centre. From the side, stood a pole which supported a big umbrella shaped stall - beneath which I caught the glimpse of a tiny, old man briskly working away.

He had small eyes, white hair and a white moustache. I was taken aback when he quietly looked up, his eyes wore a sort of resilient look – of a person who had seen all that was perhaps in the world to see, and had survived it against all odds. He was attending some other customers, so we waited by his stand. His movements were way too agile for his age, which must have been in 70’s. He was wearing a kurta with collars around his neck, with sleeves folded a little at his arms, showing thick dark veins running from his hands onto his wrist.

He mixed some spices and sauces into his pre-prepared chick peas which lay in his big vessel, took some out on a piece of newspaper, sprayed some lemon and onion onto them and started warming up kulchas for us. He handed over 2 plates (newspapers) to me and dad. I don’t think I had even said a word till that time. But the moment I took the first bite, I was overwhelmed just by the taste of what I had put into my mouth. I hadn't eaten such yummy kulche-chole in ages, and the first bite just melted away in my mouth. I broke my silence and told him that the food was awesome. He smiled gracefully at my gesture, a totally unguarded smile - and welcomed me into his world. I started chatting with him and asked him how much one plate costed, to which he said Rs5. I think I told him it was too less for such a delicacy. He smiled again and said that he couldn’t increase the price more, as then less people wud come. I asked him how many people came on an average every day. On good days, he said even 15-20, mostly the school kids from the school right next by, and on bad days very few. I asked him if he had been coming there for quite a while, and he said – many many years. There was no remorse in his voice, only a sense of contentment with his life, with whatever he was able to earn to make his ends meet. I was amazed with his sense of pride in his work, and his ability to work so deftly even at his age. By this time, more people had come to his stand, and I was long done with my plate of feast, so we decided to go. We were leaving when I told dad I wanted to drink something, and pa being an ardent fan of tea, asked the old man if there was a nice place for tea somewhere. He pointed out across to where he was standing and said that the lady over there makes excellent tea.

She had our back towards us when we approached her. An almost empty bed made of long wooden strips, held her belongings – a small stove, a few steel utensils and some cardboard boxes. She was trying to ignite the stove I think, when we reached. She looked toward us and welcomed us by her eyes. We told her - two teas, and she kept the water on the stove to boil. She must have been 55, and had a wide burn scar on her left cheek extending upto her chin. She was wearing a yellow suit, with an orange dupatta, her bare face adorned by a small nose stud and she was wearing a couple of bangles on her wrist.

When she started boiling water, dad asked her why she used a stove and not a gas cylinder. She said she had tried to do that earlier, but taking the cylinder back everyday to home was a big pain and when she had tried to leave it there once, it had got stolen. She showed us how she kept her bed too chained when she went home at night, for fear of someone just taking that away too. She put some spices in the boiling water, maybe just cardamom- and within minutes got us some nice hot tea. The moment I took the first sip, my eyes met dad’s and we smiled – both of us knew that, it too was the most delicious tea we had ever had till date or probably ever will! She was pleasantly surprised, almost blushed when I told her that, while sitting by her on the side of the wooden bed. We wandered off to some conversation about her husband and kids, I think. There was a man smoking right besides her bedside, and I thought it was her husband. Somehow I did not get a very good vibe about him, although I have to admit that with my present facts, I was no one to judge. Maybe he was a loving husband afterall.

In those few moments sitting besides her, hearing her stories and staring at the old man serving chole-kulche to a little boy right opposite, I wondered how simple there lives were, tailored just for day-to-day survival – nothing more, nothing less. And surprisingly they seemed happy with it - their routine and did not ask for more and more – so different from what we had become, I had become more importantly in the last few years. For just those few minutes, I was so overwhelmed with all these emotions, that I felt totally empty within - with respect to my own (long forsaken) beliefs and ideals. The content that I had felt with my life, just moments ago vanished into thin air, leaving behind a desire to really do something – not for someone else, but for my own self...

I wanted to keep this memory alive, somewhere with me throughout my life, so I asked her if I could take her picture. She smiled shyly, albeit a cautious smile unlike that old man's, and told me that yes I could. The old man across the road smiled too. I went upto him, told him that the chai was indeed the best and sought his permission to take his pic too. He smiled again, the same open smile, with which he had welcomed me earlier - which fought its way back again, straight into my heart. I savored what was left of the day, and bade them both a goodbye. I knew right then, that long after I have forgotten my encounter with these two lives, long after on a day when I would be so wrapped up in my own world - even to think about anyone else, I would need their looks and their smiles to remind me of what they meant to me that one hot summer day.

As our cab swirled its way back to South Delhi, in a bid to forgo the traffic the cab driver tried his luck of getting beneath a highway to find a way out of the that place. There, when we took the sweeping turn to the right, I saw a young boy on my left, around 10 or 11 lying down on the tiniest of the cots I’ve ever seen, holding a book onto his eyes and reading soulfully into the page. I remembered wondering then, what it was that he might be reading and how would he have gotten it? Did he go to school or did he just pick up the book from somewhere else? I saw dreams in his eyes, or maybe I was mistaking them with my own…dreams to make my life meaningful, to myself - dreams perhaps, to do something to meet the gaze of my own eyes...As soon as we took the turn, I saw three slums lined up one against another – small, bigger, biggest - overlooking a huge pile of dirt and dust and covered by a 'tarpail' strung together by ropes. I remember thinking how someone could live even in the biggest one of those slums. I don’t know if someone actually did.

What I do know is that I closed my eyes after that - because I realized that so many years in my comfortable lifestyle had made me so cold and so numb towards any form of emotion towards people like them, so much so that my own eyes sifted through the world around me and chose to see just the pretty sights and savour just the beautiful memories, forgetting really how I got there and where I really wanted to be. I don’t know the answer to that still, but I believe that I will find it one day and can then, maybe, dare to think about all this - with a little less hurt and a little more zeal...

Who's democracy is it anyways?

2006-05-24T14:24:00.000-04:00

It’s been a week almost, since I arrived - sleepy eyed but overly enthusiastic at the Indira Gandhi International airport at New Delhi, after more than 24 hours of tiring journey from the US. The sheer joy of being in India was strong enough to surpass all the weariness that I had from my lonesome journey back home. It’s been four years since I came to the States and like many others, I too had started nurturing dreams of coming back to India - closer to family, friends and most importantly to the place that I first learnt to call home.

Strangely enough, the India that I saw from the Day 2 of my stay was nowhere close to the ‘India Shining’ that I thought I was coming back to – thanks to the rosy pictures portrayed in recent times, by one and all, in the leading Indian newspapers and magazines. The hot issue was of course the anti-reservation stir which has caught the entire country in flames. The very first day that I checked on the news I was shocked to learn that the students protesting silently for their rights out there in the scorching sun were lathi-charged by the so-called law keepers. It has been a week since then and not much has changed. With the government mostly maintaining its silence on the issue and urging the protesters to give up, the only people concerned seem to be the ones which have really given India the ‘India Shining’ image – yes, I’m talking about the medicos, the engineers and the entire young generation of India that is out there in the streets fighting each and every single minute for a right to justice, which was theirs to keep in the first place, but which had been snatched from their hands by none other than the sick politicians who rule this country, the ones which have turned a deaf ear to all these protesting voices.

Let me just stop here and state clearly my views on the issue. Do I really need to, I ask you? Because, not one sane minded person in my opinion would really support the pro-reservation policy for more than 50% reservation in higher education institutes that the Parliament has put forward – a policy that is politically motivated, innately flawed and totally unfair. A policy that is wrong in principle, in implementation and which smells of nothing but the vested interests of the vote banks of the slimy politicians, of those men and women who are scarring the future of our nation in the name of social equality. There, I said it and I’m not going to harp on it anymore. But what I would like to harp on is the interview of our HRD minister Arjun Singh with Karan Thapar on CNN-IBN that I read yesterday and I have to admit that disappointment is too mild a word to use for what I read – I think the word that I would like to use is disgust, at where leaders like him are taking this nation, that so many others argued was on the path of unprecedented success.

The most striking part of the conversation was the fact that Mr. Singh was himself not aware of what percentage of the Indian population forms the OBCs, or the percentage of college seats that they already occupy in institutes of higher education or even what percentage of the present SC/ST quota remains unoccupied each year in these institutes. When asked by Karan if that was not an important number to know in the first place, before implementing any such reservation policy which affects the lives of thousands of students out there, he pleaded ignorance, saying that he does not know and probably does not even care about the figures. I wonder if he has any idea, as to how many innocent students sweat countless hours of their lives, to compete for every single seat in these institutes of higher education? I wonder if he has any idea as to how many parents go through a financial and an emotional roller-coaster throughout their lives, just to make sure that their children get through even one of those ‘coveted’ seats. Maybe he does but does not care about that too. When pointed out by Karan that although the government seems to have no case or rationale behind implementing these increased reservations in terms of the current need or efficacy of the system, why then was the government hell bent on implementing them nevertheless, his only argument seems to be the fact that it is the ‘will and desire’ of the Parliament which happens to be supreme. Really, and I ask you Mr. Singh, unquestionable too? How could he and along with him the entire body of parliament tell us, the world's largest democracy, to shut up and get on with our lives regardless of whether the laws put forward by the elite and perhaps a selfish, coward group of the politicians are fair or in the public interests or not. Who gave them such a right to scuttle the democracy of our nation and to squash the spirits of people, who for a change have started believing in hard work rather than quick fix solutions to their careers and lives? Equally interesting is how he single handedly ruled out the fact that the parameters of the so-called ‘modern society’ were not really applicable to India, a country which many others believe today is at the cutting edge of technology. Another interesting bit of conversation was when Mr. Singh agrees with Karan on the fact that the existing reservation policies are not working, but counters that if they are not working, it does not mean we do not need them. Isn’t that what common sense dictates? Fix the existing wrongs before introducing fresh mistakes. But then again, maybe the whole gamut of politicians, do lack the sense which is no longer common. Perhaps the most shocking part of the entire reservation stir is that the government has proposed to conveniently increase the seats in all these institutes and colleges of higher education, including the IITs and the IIMs without any consultation at all with the faculty, the students or the alumni who have given these institutes such a fame or the people who have brought these colleges to a stature where they are today. Without brooding on the efficacy of such an increase and the effect the 50% reservation would have on the quality of education provided in these institutions or the quality of students produced by them, the leaders of our nation have proved yet again that they do not care about the struggles of our nation anymore. Leave alone respecting the doctors who serve this nation day in and day out, the government does not even care for the brightest lot of our country that graduates from institutes as IITs, IIMs or AIIMS.

Sadly what I see today, is India burning and not an India shining. Who are those people, those nations who are insecure of the rising intellect and confidence of our nation – tell them, they need not worry anymore – because we have a poison so strong, in the name of corruption breathing in the very veins of our country, that it would eat us from the inside long before we become an enviable nation. The live example of this are the politicians who swear to set our country back by at least 50 years by broadening the base of discrimination on caste, in the veil of reservations. And what is the result of it all? Quiet people mourning this very moment in various corners of our nation - the death of a long borne faith in the political system, of trust in the present state of affairs in our country and perhaps, the death of an already failing democracy.

Am I still hopeful, you ask? A part of me is, for sure, because I strongly believe that what has come up in the last few weeks would go a long way down in India’s history for a struggle to a fairer democracy. I am because I know that many people have realized that to be aware and to speak out against the system is the key to bringing about a much needed change in the Indian politics. And I am because yes, I belong to the Rang De Basanti generation, which is tired of the complacency and wrong doings of our politicians, a generation that is learning to fight for its rights, but also a generation that is smart enough not to believe in the much hyped comparisons of the endings - of movies, of courtroom rulings and of lost causes of system failings**

So, do not mistake it all to be the closing of yet another chapter Mr. Singh, because this really might just be a mere beginning.......

**P.S: I have to honestly thank news channels like NDTV for providing me the motivation to write some of this, based on their useless coverage during the whole reservation stir, coverage which was concerned not only on analysing how exactly the current situation was borne as a result of RDB, but also on if the end to the whole thing would be inspired by RDB too. So, instead of focussing on the real problems and how they should be circumvented, count on them to always come up with futile 2-3 hours discussions on irrelevant topics. God save our country from such pretentious media and journalism!

Into the woods

2006-04-04T11:56:00.000-04:00

I found this amazing place, less than 5 mins drive from my apartment on the weekend. Was coming back home, merrily enjoying the warm, pleasant weather after months of cold and on a sudden impulse thought of stopping by the roadside, onto what looked like an old rustic path. I parked my car …and went down the narrow road.

Seconds later, I found myself amongst tall trees for as far as I could see on either side. It was all so quiet one minute, and the very next there was a sudden rush of wind roaring out from somewhere far off. And in between those wind gusts, I could hear a lone bird chirping here and there. Everything was so eerie to say the least that my heart must have skipped a beat (or two) in that wilderness. I went on further ahead, and caught a glimpse of the river behind two tall trees in the middle and two adorning the middle ones on either side.

A few more steps down, and I caught the whole wide view. There was a lone tree standing on one side, with her branches sprawled out in a careless abandon – overlooking the shimmering blue waters and the calm blue skies.

I stared at it all in a bated breath for a while and then let myself relax, soaking in all that I could of the sights and sounds of the dusk. I wanted to wrap my arms around this evening and not let it slip by..... But I had to, after a short while - when the clouds in the distance became way too threatening and the wind picked up on its gusts a little more. But before, I leggo…this is what became my cherished memory of the day.

P.S: When I came home I realized, that I shouldn’t have been out in such weather in the first place – there was a tornado watch in effect for my city and the surrounding areas because of which the wind gusts were so high. But, looking back I almost thank my ignorance for letting me take that roadside journey :-)

Where the mind is without fear

2006-03-13T00:44:00.000-05:00

blog-a-thon 2006

I've written this blog in support of Blank Noise Project who are fighting a brave fight against street harassment. I might be a little late, but I had to say it, just for the record!

How old was I? I don’t remember, think I was in 7th, so that makes me 13. We had a near accident with a bike - my dad, mom, sis, and I. We were in a car – and a pair of irresponsible guys on the bike, were the cause of it. They swore some foul expletives at us, I think. Dad went out, confronted them and things got messy. The last I remember they hit dad, and he was bleeding somewhere. Someone called the police and the situation got worse. Dad wanted to stay there, to file an FIR - my mom wanted me and my sis to go back home. So, we took a rickshaw and headed home.

I come from a city in Punjab. Rickshaws are a common means of transport there, so it was no big deal. Di and I were both too tired from the day, and worried about mom and dad. It was getting dark and we were almost home. There were noises in the background, of people traveling, here and there - noises almost fading into a blur. Somewhere in the distance, a noise must have grown louder. A bike was behind us, I think, but we didn’t pay much attention to it. Almost a split second later, the bike came side by side with the rickshaw, and out of nowhere, a hand reached out at my chest and pulled my breasts....

It must have hurt and I must have screamed, I don’t remember. What I do remember is that I felt a knot down my stomach somewhere and a strong sense of repulsion down my whole body – repulsion, almost at my own flesh. I wanted to throw up right there, but I didn’t. I wanted to cry right then, but I didn’t. I heard di saying that it was okay. I must have stared at her – because I couldn’t possibly fathom what was it, that was okay? The rest of the evening is sort of blotted out from my memory. All I remember from then, is hot tears rolling down my cheek for almost an hour, in a lonely corner of my bathroom, back home.

It was a day, forgotten in hurry, by others - but it was a day when I had my first 'brush' with reality. Reality, which was to grow only gloomier in the days to come, for little was I to know then, that I would land up in good old Delhi, to pursue my undergraduate education – Delhi, which was indeed the hot spot of this fucking reality. So, a young girl of only 18, I landed up in Delhi – with dreams in my eyes and euphoria down my sleeves, euphoria which was soon to morph into severe nausea....

I stepped into my college life, about 8 years back, and realized that mine too was a campus maybe, like every other. The eve teasing began again, on a light flirtatious note some times – but became out of bounds at others. And then one night, when I was returning back to the hostel from somewhere within the campus, a bunch of guys did the bike trick with me again – you know, zooming besides you, and then coming back straight on, with their headlights shining on your face - something which seems so insipid and dull when you hear about it from someone else– unless ofcourse, the face that is shining behind those bike lights is yours.....

I found my voice, then, in my second year of college life, on that fateful day - and made a promise to myself, to make a difference. I wrote in my college magazine, about that incident, and against many others which the gals on the campus had to silently suffer through, all the time. Needless to say, the article met with a resistance. I heard a lot of sarcasm about it the whole year, but that did not deter me. I realized at that time, how important it was to let people know of their wrongdoings, and not to suffer alone, in silence....

It happened again in the subway, one fine day, when a guy passing by, made some lecherous comments on my busts. I threw the coke that I was carrying in my hands on his face and ran after him – but he escaped by. It happened again, when this middle aged man on a scooter coming from the front, found me on a lone street, gave me a heinous smile, and did something so disgusting, that words fail me when I think about it, even today. That man too rushed away, but his face haunts me till date. It happened again, when my teenage incident repeated, back in my hometown, exactly in the same manner it had happened before. Except that this time around, I shouted and swore, and tried to get a glimpse of that man beneath that helmet on the bike or a fucking number on his number plate. It happened again on a busy railway station, when I was getting late for my train. I asked someone for the train time, and after giving me that, he also gave me a piece of his mind, on how I looked that night. It happened again, in a bus when I found strange hands land on my butt from behind, only to look back and find blank faces staring at me from all sides....

Each one of those incidents stung so bad, and each one of them left a hole wide open in my heart. Slowly and slowly the truth began to sink in. The truth that I lived in an insane world, where I could be violated all the time - in busy market places, on lonely streets, in crowded theatres, or even on everyday bus rides. I lost count of how many times I went through all that shit and much more. Yes, I did come out of it unscathed, except that the wounds that I incurred, were more than a skin deep. But true, I was now a stronger person, in body, mind and soul, than I might have been otherwise. And I left all that hurt, pain and bitterness behind, when I came here, to the US almost four years back. But there are memories unspoken, that haunt me still. And when they do, sometimes the dam breaks loose, and I’m mad again at all those, who almost made me loose my faith in humanity, a long time back. I say, almost because I did not let them. I say almost, because I know that for every grim reality that I faced then, I’ve seen a lovelier hue in my world now. I say almost because for every tear that I cried then, I have laughed heartily so many times now.....

Strangely enough, people are amused when I speak so strongly about this topic, in public anytime. So, why don’t you girls just get over it, they ask? We do, I tell them –come out of it stronger than you would possibly imagine, but that still that does not make you want to forgive or forget even one of such disgusting incidents anytime. Why is physical violation a blasphemy, some ask? What is so sacred about your body that makes it all an unforgivable crime? Nothing, I tell them - just that it is my body and nobody else but me has a right to decide what I want to do with it. I have a right to walk, like you do, on the streets fearlessly– I have a right to live the life that you do, of a carefree existence and I have a right to just be who I am, and not your perception of who I should be.

So, here’s a wish for all those, who are fighting a brave fight against street harassment. Here’s wishing that we find our voices, before they strangle them aside, here’s wishing that we sing our songs, in the melodies that we like and here’s wishing that one day, we walk down the streets of our country with our heads held high....

Some scattered memories.....

2005-12-11T19:05:00.000-05:00

A lonely shade of gray
Behind those melting skies
That drop of tear
Hiding stealthily in your eyes

Would haunt me
today, tomorrow
for a lifetime....

*********************************

Wish I could reach inside
And wipe them all away
Your pains, your sorrows
And all your gloomy days

Reach deep down
And borrow, just for a day
All that hurts so bad
All that, tears you away....

Cest la Vie

2005-07-21T13:08:00.000-04:00

What do you see?
When you look at me
She asked long back
On an evening free

I paused...and stared
At her curves and flairs
And said
Maybe, I find you pretty

Not that, she said
Stop being a dud
I’m not that kind
of a longing bud

Look hard, you fool
And please, don’t drool
You know my anger
Can you sense my wrath?

She was right, I thought
Lasses always were
So, I looked again
right back at her

It was then, I saw
Behind her careless guffaw
A universe of pain
Which was seeping, so slow……

She smiled, as if
She sensed me find
That one dead cell
Killing her inside….

No, please don’t go
I beg you so
I am in love
I cried and swore

Too late, she said
It’s been a while
You pay the dues
When comes the time

She held my hands
Her touch so warm
And made me promise
With all her charm

'We’ve laughed, you know
These years, and cried
We’ve loved and lied
Oh yes, we’ve sighed'

'But when I’m gone
Would, you please stay?
Just live for me
When I go away…. '

Torn

2005-07-20T12:30:00.000-04:00

I found them lying on the ground this morning.....On my way to work....
.
.
.
.
Shattered pieces of glass.....Broken and neglected!
.
.
.
.
Memoirs of a heart ripped .....so suddenly....

that it forgot to hurt....
.
.
.
.

So completely.....

that there was nothing to salvage......
.
.
.
.

except reality...

except this moment...

except these pieces...

lying beneath my feet...

staring at me...

like the half-naked truth...
.
.
.
.
.

like the realization...

Of a once perfect sky...
.
.
.
.
now torn!

A Farewell Note......

2005-07-08T13:30:00.000-04:00

I am driving down west again, today. The stillness of the other day has vanished into thin air. There is an oncoming storm down south, they say. There is one brewing right here – in my heart. I no longer pay attention to the roads I follow these days.....just take the ones which take me closer and closer to the setting sun.......I no longer bother to ask myself why....just follow that gut feeling deep down somewhere and do just fine....

I do the same today. After driving for half an hour, when I stop, I have the full view of the grayish orange sky in the front. There is a distant chirping of the birds somewhere, to my right...I look in that direction and see three girls, walking towards me, holding hands - the eldest one in the middle, the younger ones on the sides. I notice they’re carrying a bunch of flowers in their hands. I turn around – and realize - I’m standing in front of a graveyard....

I’m surprised to say the least. I don’t know what led me down this path today, but it is perhaps where I really wanted to be. I go further down into the cemetery, and there, besides hundreds of people, whom I’ve never met - I bid farewell to one more, in my heart. Another someone I’ve never seen or met, but whose pain I’ve felt, all these days, through a friend’s aching heart....

A had called, several days ago....his dad.....they had lost him to cancer.

There are just too many memories of him strewn all around the house.... he had said.

It’s hard to get used to his absence - feels like he is gone just out of house and will return soon.... But he never will.

His words kept going round and round in my head....for days....They had been together for 42 years....his parents.....and loved each other a lot. I was always amazed by the special relationship that they shared, maybe because I have never seen one, in my home. There were cracks in those walls, where I lived, for 18 years......cracks which were perhaps never to mend......

I am shaken from my reverie by a phone call. It’s A on the other line. We talk for a few minutes, and then, when I keep the phone down, I realize - there are tears in my eyes waiting to touch the ground.....I don’t hold them back this time around, and let them fall.....they fall and bite the dust.....

I look around, those girls are nowhere to be seen......the vermilion of the setting sun is shining brightly against the black metal of my car. The chirping of the birds too has stopped.....the stillness of the cemetery is strangely soothing to my ears. It’s time to go back.....I bid a final adieu to the man I’ve never met and never will, and move on........

Chasing Sunsets....

2005-06-23T10:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, it was 2 days officially since I returned from my month long vacation to India. Life had started getting back to a different level of normalcy here for me. Strangely enough, this time around I found myself at peace with my niche in this part of the world, much sooner than I would have normally done. Maybe time does that to you - it has been three years since I’ve moved to the US and the empty home that I’ve created for myself here, has started becoming as special as the home that I left behind....

It was 7:30 in the evening, when I came back from the gym and realized that I have the rest of the evening to kill - all by myself. I felt like going out for a drive. Picked up the car keys, rushed down the stairs and got myself behind the wheels. No sooner than I did that, I realized how much I had missed getting my hands on the steering earlier.....

I started driving west, down a new route I had never explored before. It was a not so hot day and coming back from the sizzling Delhi anyways made me appreciate the weather of my small town here more since the last 2 days. It was a nice stretch of road - better than what I had anticipated it to be. The road was narrow, with green trees falling down halfway in the front, on either side, making me wonder how this sight would look like in fall - but it was summers instead and I didn’t seem to be minding it one bit! The traffic was minimal and I looked like the only person traveling on a jaded summer evening on this route. The road was winding and went up a few miles before going down another few. The weather was strangely pleasant and I had rolled down the car windows to take all the fresh air in......

Several miles into my drive, a sudden brightness hit me straight in my face. I had to lower the sun shades to see what lay ahead! There - right in front of me - was a huge orange blob of the evening sun, stealthily going down, behind the road uphill. The road winded a little and the sun disappeared behind the trees, but before it did so, I caught faint streaks of some colours in the pale sky. This happened a couple of times. Every time I thought I would come face to face with the sun, the road would wind in another direction, leaving me disappointed. I had come a long way from where I had started, and it was already getting late. For an instant I thought I should go back, but someone inside of me didn’t want to go home this day. My eyes were racing ahead, trying hard to beat the one playing hide and seek with me today! But I was determined, not to loose......

Slowly, I started leaving the civilization behind. All I could see were farmlands on both sides - lush green grass and even greener trees. Small houses scattered here and there, each after a couple of miles. Still, no one on the roads. There was a certain calmness about the drive, which was becoming more and more difficult to take in! A road side sign signalled a sharp left turn ahead. I lowered the thrust on my gas pedal and took the sweeping left turn. Even before I could hit the speed again, my heart beat started racing fast - had I caught a glimpse of something on the right? My eyes started searching behind the veil of the trees boasting the road side. Almost an instant later, the trees disappeared as if defying their very existence earlier - and what came into view, just left me in awe.....

A huuuge piece of lush green farmland on my right.......a small cottage situated in the middle - and there, behind the cottage and all around it, was the most beautiful mix of deep orange and nascent vermilion, filling almost the entire visible evening sky. A narrow path was leading inwards into the farm. I knew it was illegal entering into somone’s property like this, but I just had to stop. I drove into that narrow path, turned off the ignition and just stared at the sight in front of me - in one breath. There was nothing else that I wanted from this evening. It was quiet and colourful - both at the same time! As if the picture was already not perfect enough, a huge swarm of birds came out from nowhere, in front of the blessed cottage, and painted a brush of reality to what I was seeing. I could feel a rush of blood in my veins, aching to match the intensity of the innocent beauty scattered all around me. I hadn’t felt this close to myself in an eternity - an eternity, perhaps longer than my lifetime....

I stayed just like that for quite a while and when I checked my watch, it was 8:30. Backed my car out of the farm, down the road where I came from. I could still spot the haunting shade of vermilion in my rear view mirror - perhaps, beckoning me to come back! I couldn’t take the stillness of the evening any more, switched on my cd player. In an instant music filled the air with......

Aa bhi jaa, aa bhi jaa, ae subaah aa bhi jaa
Raat ko kar vida, dilruba aa bhi jaa

Mere, mere dil ke paagalpan ki
seema kya hai?
Yun to tu hai meri,
chaaya tujh mein, tera kya hai?

Main hun gagan tu hai zameen,
adhoori si mere bina
Raat ko kar vida,
dilruba aa bhi jaa...

I smiled and bid adieu to this beautiful moment - frozen in time, driving on towards the unknown and the unseen......

A Thousand Words

2005-05-03T19:38:00.000-04:00

Here, are some pics from one of my desert drives!! Did, I hear no…not again?? :p:p

I’ve kept the blog essentially as a photo blog…would let the pics do all the talking, and would just whisper from the back about where the pic was taken….deal? :-) Ok, here I go....

These pictures are from my trip to the Apache Scenic Trail. A little bit of history on the trail itself. The 48 mile trail, was built essentially as a road to get building material through the Superstition Mountains, to the construction site of the now towering 300 ft tall Roosevelt dam. For most part of the trip, the terrain is rugged and steeping, and just 15 or so miles into the trail, the road pavement ends. For the rest of the trip, the road is narrow, making room for just one car at a time......and at so many such hair pin turns along the trail, you have to stop and make way for the cars trying to pass from the other side......

Our trip, started on a beautiful Sunday morning, from Phoenix, following the signs for AZ 88. I had all my information in place - the directions, the distances, the stop overs - had almost remembered everything by heart before I even began the trip! :-) A couple of miles onto AZ 88, I noticed a bunch of mountains towering onto my right – they had to be superstition mountains.....one look at them removed all the doubts I had about their name. They looked so threatening and ominous – dark and disturbing, beneath the blanket of white clouds – that I had to get out of the car and take an inviting shot of their beauty.....

Superstition Mountains

A few miles further into the trail, the road began to bend sharply....and the trail started to become steeper and steeper. Here is, one such shot of the meandering road.

....Just a bend.....

Around 15 or so miles, into the trail.....the beautiful Canyon Lake came to view. Believe me, you don’t want to hear me talk about the mesmerizing blue lake.....for if I start, I'd never stop :-) Here, are a few shots......some in colour, and a few in sepia and black and white.....

Canyon lake - In sepia!

In black 'n' white

In full colour

One of my favourite shots.....notice the contrast

because of different shades of sun on the cliff!

More shots...in sepia!

Can u spot the shadow of the mountains at the back?

This is where, most of the people head back, as the paved road ends.....and the gravel road goes further onto the fish creek canyon - overlooking the Apache lake. It’s a long 18 mile lake, and the road cuts thru the cliffs and the canyons, sharply - at times, sometimes descending, and at other times ascending along the meandering lake. Here is a view when the lake was deep down, and we could see it from the top amidst the adjoining landscape boasting of the Saguaro cactus!

The meandering Apache Lake

The lake again - in sepia!

Here is another view when we were at level (literally!!) with the lake.

Finally - at par with the lake!

Check out how far the road goes uphill !!!!

The next stop, was the astounding Roosevelt Dam.....standing in the middle of the largest of the three lakes along the trail – the Roosevelt Lake! It was a sight – so massive, and so beautiful ....that I’ll carry it’s memory in my heart forever! A huge hemispherical bridge, overlooking the vast lake…the breathtaking mountains at the back, and the looming clouds. It’s like nature and man in harmony with each other – u have a bridge, a road, mountains, skies and waters.....all living peacefully on this one stretch of the world! :-) Here, are some shots of the lake.......

The Roosevelt Lake - just one end!

..That faint streak in the waters.....

The other end of the bridge!

The bridge...in all it's might!

...The road to nowhere....

And here, are some shots of the day dying, in wake of the mountains!

The dying day....

...and the dreamy skies!

And as I left all this behind, that day, I could not but help wonder how I would feel each time that I would think about this trip - about my love for the desert! Those huge mountains standing tall, amidst blue waters and blue skies - and a lone soul, standing by their side, watching them tower above everything - wondering, at the brevity of us - against them! And yet, I would want to come back to their arms, every once in a while - and just enjoy the magic of being there, with them – hearing them whisper to me a lullaby.....

I dream of rain, I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain, I dream of love as time runs thru my hand.....
I dream of rain, I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes, the rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love...

P.S: Woohooo…...and u actually got fooled into thinking that I was gonna let u see the pics, without some of my live transmission ;-)

Reflections of a Dead Autumn

2005-04-16T20:16:00.000-04:00

So I went back by the bridge today.....six months after the shades of last fall, to make my peace with my world. The air was crisp as I took, slow but steady steps towards the much coveted spot by the handrail. The bells in the downtown church struck a myriad tunes, as the veil of dusk stealthily covered the evening sky. I walked past two smiling shadows sitting on the lone bench facing the other side........

It had been a tough couple of days. Behind all the laughs, that I had hidden myself in, I knew I had really wanted to let go for sometime. A close friends’, dad had been detected with cancer.....and his pain had numbed me completely for a while. I hadn’t seen or thought about death from so close a distance, for quite sometime. For me too, it was one of those things that always happen to other people - never to you, or someone close to you. Only when the myth breaks, do you realize, that all the woes of your life – are so trivial, so nonexistent, so futile - compared to the transiency of life......compared to this one fact that someone, soon, might not survive?

It’s funny, how I thought, up until a few days ago, that my differences with R were perhaps the source of my deepest pain all my life.....and that I would do anything to just get out of the situation I was in. And then, this happened. Now, I think, life, maybe is too short for differences in the mind....what is losing touch anyways, compared to the fact that, someone this moment, is losing life....

Somewhere in the distance, I watched yet another day die. The sky donned itself in a blanket of vermilion, and the sun hid a smile behind the grim confusion of the woods on the riverside. The reflections of the trees, stared at me like illusions, in the mirror of my life – a lot more profound than what they actually looked like?

As I left them, I silently let out a cry – maybe, tomorrow, everything will be fine.....

....Sandglass.....

2005-04-13T00:23:00.000-04:00

The day was Saturday, two days before I was flying out of Phoenix. It was a day we had meticulously set aside, to drive by the famous Apache Scenic Trail around Phoenix. I had read some of the most amazing stories about the trail and was all excited at the prospect of getting a first hand experience on the beauty and might behind this gorgeous slice of road trip – known to take you straight into the heart of the desert, through looming mountains, beautifully eroded canyons and breathtaking lakes!

But as luck would have it, the weather turned nasty that morning and soon, it started raining. The trail was supposed to be quite steep and winding, so it was dangerous to go there in bad weather. Plus, I hate to hurry things up while on a road trip, so we didn't want to take any chance to just drive by the points of interest, without actually stopping and letting the beauty sink in – only because it was raining. So, plan A was quickly shifted to plan B – road trip for tomorrow, something else for today.

What else, was an interesting question indeed! We spend a couple of hours (yeah, hours!!) trying to figure out what we could do and finally decided on checking out Scottsdale, better known as the city of the rich and the famous. A suggested the whole day at one of the many famous golf and spa resorts at Scottsdale - which was indeed the golf mecca of the southwest. My scheming mind, ofcourse had other plans ;-) There was no way I was going to let him spend the whole day playing golf and the evening getting massaged! So, I subtly reminded him that other than being a golf mecca, Scottsdale was also, the art oasis of the Valley of the Sun. Well, subtle gave room to persistent :) and soon enough we were driving down towards the Scottsdale downtown museum of contemporary art.....

Three exhibitions struck my attention the moment we stepped in. The first was called Strangely Familiar: an international exhibition, highlighting the role of design in everyday living, that incidently also happened to be one of the top 40 exhibitions worldwide at that time. The second, was Street Credibility, work of the photographer Diane Arbus – and her attempt to blend in casual street photography with professional studio portraiture over the course of her lifetime, and last but not the least, was Sandglass – an exhibition of the desert vistas by Russian artists Svetlana and Igor Kopystiansky.

Although the engineer in me, was more interested in checking out the design work first, there was something vaguely intriguing about the word Sandglass which led my steps unknowingly, into the least famous of the all the three exhibitions! We had absolutely no idea what we were getting into, when we mechanically followed the narrow alley, down into the room saying - Sandglass.....

What I saw when I entered the room, was something so ordinary that my first reaction was quite a bit of surprise! On the wall in front of me, was a huge video installation. Two screens, around 30 feet total, in length, were placed side by side. Each of them was projecting still, black and white snapshots, of identical desert landscapes – just a curved, worn-out road, extending from the left bottom of the screen to the right top, a few peaked mountains visible at the back and a group of flat mountains with striations visible on the left. There was absolutely no difference in the two screens at all.....

...Sandglass - 1 and 2.... www.smoca.org

I turned my attention away from the screen towards the room, which was completely dark except for two silhouettes at a distance – one person sitting besides the bench at the far end of the room, staring onto the screen and a second, standing on the side, looking a little disinterested. The second person I think, had entered just moments before us, and was visibly disappointed in what he saw. So by the time we moved closer to the bench, he had already left the room. One thing that I’ve learnt in whatever little appreciation I have for art, is to be patient with it and let it talk to you, rather than making hurried judgements way too soon - so, I decided to stick around a little while longer.......

So, there we were - just three people in the huge room - me, A and the third observer. I settled down on the lone bench, in front of the screen and my eyes slowly adjusted themselves to the darkness around me. I gave a second, more determined look onto the two screens in front of me and the two things that I noticed this time around were painstakingly beautiful. For one, the two snapshots were not quite identical and two, they were not quite stationary!!!

As I bore my eyes deeper onto the screen, I noticed that the image on the left was moving very slowly to the right and the one on the right was moving very slowly to the left! The motion was so slow that it was barely perceptible…The frames were casually showing different angles of the same landscape, and at the same time slowly trying to move towards each other, converging, I think, to a single snapshot. What was amazing about the entire projection, was how it explored the subtle nuances of the so chosen landscape – almost every iota of the meandering uphill road in the front, each and every grain of sand on the side of the road and every single striation etched on the mountains in view – was thrown naked in front of my eyes.....so ordinary, yet so exquisite!

The whole image had a kinda feel-good effect on me, some sort of a weird contentment, at letting the time slip by, so very slowly in front of my eyes – while watching one of nature’s precious hidden treasures. I can almost swear that I didn’t notice the 40 minutes or so, we spend, just watching the screen go by - before A reminded me that we had yet to see the rest of the exhibitions…

I wanted to continue the rest of the story - on how intellectually stimulating the design exhibition was or how fascinating some of Diane’s work were – but you know what, compared to Sandglass, I think, all that fell way behind.

The simplicity, in the depth of Sandglass, was indeed unmistakable and uncomparable....

Requiem for a dream

2005-03-23T23:55:00.000-05:00

And some days
I open, my eyes to the lore
A mourning heart,
feeling numb to the core....

And I wonder what happened,
to my zeal to be me?
A forgotten passion
Lost, in the maze of sanity....

And I close my eyes,
to break myself free
But all I hear,
Is a requiem for a dream.....

Of painted skies - and more...

2005-03-17T17:41:00.000-05:00

It had been a tiring day. We had just started driving back from Tucson towards Phoenix downtown. My trip to Phoenix had been quite eventful, to say the least. Three years of city life had made me forget what it was like, to be in the wake of mountains. This trip had brought back lots of hurtling memories from my childhood – a few pleasant ones and some unpleasant ones too. But there was something special about this evening, which made me want to forget them all. For as far as I could see, there were mountains adorning either side of the highway. It was all so mystical......so mesmerizing, that we hardly even spoke – A and I.

Sitting in the car besides him, my eyes searchingly followed the wide expanse of mountains that lay all around us. I had a vague feeling that I was leaving something behind - what I did not know. My gaze lingered on in mid air for a while.....and then re-focussed itself on a bunch of stores by the highway. A quick scan registered Starbucks in my mind – and no sooner than it did, A asked – ‘Coffee’?? I smiled – wondering at his amazing capability to read my mind sometimes....

We pulled over besides Starbucks, and went inside. It didn’t take me long to decide what I wanted, A got something too, we paid off and walked on, out of the front door. A whiff of fresh mountain air took me by surprise, as soon as we stepped out. The effect was both chilling as well as refreshing. We hardly took a few more steps towards the car, when my eyes skimmed over the evening sky towards the left. No sooner than they did -I stopped.

On my left, was one of the most beautiful visions I’ve ever seen in the evening sky. The sun was setting somewhere far off, behind the mountains.....and as it did so – it left behind it a vivid trail of hues....... it was a vision that instantaneously took my breath away. The moment I saw it, only one thought crossed my mind - if someone ever gave me a paint brush and asked me to paint my own sky – this is how it would look – a mix of deep crimson, dreamy yellow and a subtle blue.......

....Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye.....

We stepped up onto the elevated divider, dividing the small mall from the highway to get a better view. What started of as isolated streaks of these three shades in the distance, soon became a beautiful medley of colours. It had barely been five minutes, when the colours started receding off one end of the sky......and deepened down the other.

....Visions of a painted sky....

The whole phenomena lasted less than 15 minutes.......but 15 minutes that I would never forget in my lifetime. I felt a sense of pure joy, I hadn’t felt in quite a while. The colours were nowhere to be seen now, but their magic still seemed to linger on......like perfume!

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and sank in what was left of the day. When I opened ‘em – A was looking at me.

‘What are you looking at?’ , I chided.

‘What do you think?’, he said, quite matter-of-factly, and smiled.

I smiled too - and off we went towards the car, back to where we had started from......

The object of my affection

2005-03-14T12:51:00.000-05:00

It was an unusually quiet Sunday. G was not at home. I was pacing up and down the whole length of the living room thinking about what to do. Random thoughts crossed my mind - could I go watch a movie?? Or read a book.....or make the numerous phone calls I’ve been avoiding since an eternity?

Nothing seemed to fit my world right at this moment.....something about the calm Sunday evening told me to just lie still and watch the day go by. So, I decided to yield to my heart’s temptations - put on some nice old ghazals in the cd player, pulled up a chair and just let it all sink......my worries, my desires, my passions and my pains! The music filled the air with 'Tum itna jo musukura rahe ho' – one of my old time favourites. It belonged to the genre of songs that I thought were so truly beautiful and poignant at the same time.

I was just trying to drown myself in the magic of the moment, when I noticed her - standing alone, away from 'em all - looking innocent, yet absolutely gorgeous . She was bending slightly to the side, as if bowing to her own naked beauty. She was one of the bunch of three roses that I got G for her birthday yesterday. I wondered why I hadn’t paid a closer attention to this little piece of life brimming in my home earlier. I shifted a little in my chair, and rotated the vase to the right- to get a better peek into her world.

It was then, that I saw the impeccable grey shadow on the wall behind.....For some strange reason, it made me feel a little uneasy. It was as if I had seen more than I was supposed to. Was her world such a somber grey, behind that beautiful white? For an instance, I thought, I caught a glimpse of hurt behind that innocent smile.....a tinge of pain, beneath that subtle veil.....

I rang up A and showed him the pics. A few quick seconds of file transfer was all that was needed to share them all.

‘So, what do you think?’, I asked him

‘It’s nice, I like those small white flowers behind the leaves’

‘Oh, is that all?’

‘No, where were you standing when you took the pic’?

What has that got to do with anything, I wondered.‘Right next to the Café Terrace’, I said, a little annoyed.

‘Oh,ok! So, is this the rose on the left?’

‘No, it’s the one on the right’, I replied, more annoyed than earlier and wondering what he was up to.

...The trio - original.....

‘That’s not possible, you just showed me the pic of the whole bunch and the right flower doesn’t seem to fit in’

I looked at the pics again. ‘Oh, I tilted the vase a little to get a better view, so yes u're right - it's the left one in the pic ’!!!

‘Oh, I see....'

He had a keen eye for sure but I thought he was missing the whole point.

A long silence followed before he commented again.......

‘And what’s wrong with the third pic, it’s showing a strong variation of colours’

......Solarized....

‘You call it solarized, A’

‘Hmmmm… why don’t you get these pics enlarged, enig! With the rate that you click snaps, you can have your own webshots site by now!!’

Ok, so he really was missing the point, or my mood – or both!

‘I need to go take a shower, A. I’ll catch up with u later’

With that, I hung up the phone abruptly and just took a deep breath. Of late, I had started feeling that A doesn’t really share my passions and didn’t quite understand my penchant for pain.We seldom thought about things in the same way. Did we have to? Maybe not, but weren’t the differences outgrowing the similarities? I was not sure what was disturbing me more - the fact that he often didn’t see what I saw in things, or the fact that he saw what I didn’t –a few distorted colours and some little big nothings. In short, things as they were - and not things as they could be.........

I cast one sidewards glance at the white rose lying in the vase....... she was standing so serene in her own glory - unruffled by the storm brewing inside of me. I went closer and touched her petals. It was absolutely irresistible – the sight of an unblemished white!

....In sepia....

No sooner than the thought crossed my mind- that I smiled. Wasn’t it this that I had liked in A in the first place – his uncompromising simplicity and his absolute lack of pretence! All in all , his tendency to keep things simple and straight. He didn’t wear any masks, and didn’t entangle his life in a hundred different meshes – the way I did. He didn’t look for hidden meanings in things – and was at peace with his own world. I was totally the opposite – I always found unnecessary things to brood over, and was never at ease with my life. I kept looking for pain even in the most unexpected places – and could never balance the strings of my life right…….

The realization was so subtle........yet so true. The rose was still smiling at me from a distance. I didn't want to complicate the truth more than this. I left it right there, in its beauty, and went on to dissolve my thoughts down a warm shower - with a promise to see life-as-it-is and not life-as-it-could-be.........

Threads of life

2004-12-02T16:47:00.000-05:00

Threads of life - they’re just like cobwebs, aren’t they? Like this one - the orb web - that I spotted on my way back home the other day! Delicate, yet so strong. Woven beautifully - but beyond comprehension. Isn't it amazing how the entire web is built - hanging just onto the first thread - the one which is the most difficult one to make. One gust of wind in the right direction - and the journey starts every time (yet - to be ended again?) Isn’t it the same – the web of our life? The first steps - aren’t they the most difficult ones. The first cuts – aren't they the deepest ?

It’s truly amazing – the web of life - you think it’ll become simpler and clearer as you go along its threads, one by one, but it doesn’t - becomes so intricate that you almost feel like giving up the old one and starting anew one fine day - no questions asked, no strings attached! But the irony is that you are never able to do that. Weave your own web and leave it hanging in between. There are always some threads that come to haunt you when you turn your face away - remnants of the deeds left undone!

Have you ever got lost in your own web? I have – many times, so lost that I sometimes forget where I started from and where I really wanted to go. Funny thing, this want is - makes you build dreams, makes you go places - to fulfill your so called dreams. Till one day, you look back and discover that u can no longer unravel the threads of your web. You can no longer say, that Look, this is why I’m here!

Where am I?

All I can see from here is a meandering road - and a long lost trail. Wilderness – at its best! And all I can hear is - music - in the woods. The chirping of a bird and a distant hum - a hearty laugh and a scream - just the sound of my own heart beat. I strangely feel at peace here. Maybe this is it - eternity!

Maybe this is where my journey ends - maybe this is where I begin!

Trails along Lost River Cave - KY!

Monday morning blues!

2004-11-01T12:05:00.000-05:00

Ottawa Beach, MI

Shimmering blue,
is the subtle hue
of the sky above
and the sea below

Is the color of my dreams,
The ones I cannot reach.
Is fidelity,
which I can’t promise to keep!

is the discoloration
of forget-me-nots,
is the colour of sapphire,
adorning my neck

Is the somber Monet,
in water lilies.
Is the flagrant blue
in Kandinsky!

Is the gleaming onyx,
re-discovered in the caves.
Is the lightning,
which will strike me one day

is the sparkle in my eye,
when I look back at time
is the quiver in my heart
and the cry in the night

Is the colour of the devil,
the one inside me.
is the smudge of the ink,
staring from my graffiti!

Rukhsana 'n' I

2004-11-01T00:35:00.000-05:00

Thatz the view, the view right outside my window - breathtaking and beautiful! One, which I’ve traced every single day for the last couple of weeks. Woken up in sheer excitement just to see how pretty the sight looked today. Woken up in oblivion to the rest of the world ……and wondered - just leave me this sight to observe, these leaves to stare at, those patterns on the ground to gaze, those branches to marvel at - and take away the rest of the world......I won’t care less!

Have you ever experienced fall? No, not just seen it….but felt it? Have u ever touched the enigma that surrounds it.......or heard the story which belongs to it? The story of a lifetime......have you?

As autumn went by, my days went on and on - and that tree right outside my window became my tea buddy…..I called her Rukhsana. She told me a beautiful story, her story and I just listened to her - in awe, in deep admiration and in a childish wonder. She told me of the breeze which played music on her leaves, each day, every single day. Of the breeze which intoxicated the leaves, her leaves - some a vibrant red, some a subtle yellow, some a vivid orange and the rest green - a lush green. It was amazing, their play, their love – their zeal for life! I would return to her arms in the evening - each day, day after day- just to hear ‘em all, hear ‘em play some soul stirring music. And I wondered to myself if music was a sufficient gift?

I recalled having read somewhere- it is enough, it is to be blessed enough, to live from day to day and to hear such music – not too much, or the soul could not sustain it from time to time. Wasn’t it true? Isn’t it true……

And then, as soon as it began, it ended. I came home one fine day, to be greeted by a killing silence in my backyard. I rushed to the window, and there she was - lying almost bare! My buddy, my Rukhsana. I was too afraid to ask….so, I went closer and shook her. She answered - in pain. She told me of what happened last night. Told me how the breeze that she had confided in all along - that gentle, innocent breeze, who would come to her steps for her warmth, her affection, her frivolousness, her undying love - the same old breeze that sneaked its way up from familiarity to intimacy -turned into a gust of wind last night - and separated her soul from her body, her soul, her leaves - and whisked ‘em away. Not all, but most - does it even matter, how many? Each one of them had veins leading to her heart......

Ah! Intimacy….how could you have trusted this beast, Rukh......this beast which knows not its own form…..is the cause of the lubdub of ur heart one day.....and becomes your deepest fear the next day……how….

Days went by-and Rukhsana could not bear the memory of the lost ones any more. She began to go weak in her knees and could not hold the weight of rest of the leaves too. So, she began shedding them all, one by one, like unwanted memories - and I could do nothing but watch, with numbness - her pain, her heart - bleeding!

How could you do it, Rukh….no don’t…stop….how could you say goodbye to something which was a part of your existence once?

Was it something which had been eluding me too for a while? How - how could I? How could I say goodbye to something which was a part of my life once? How could I push behind memories, faces, places, people and move on? Tell me how? Was Rukh the mirror image of a part of my life - or I of hers? I didn't know and I didn't care. I just wanted to see her smile again!

All I could do now was wait - wait till time heals her, wait till time heals me - wait, till the next spring!