Spring is overrated

I mean look at winter and all those eulogies bout spring somehow sound like balderdash. Just had a quiet walk , alone with my music ,without a jacket to protect me from winters chilly embrace. Music warming me up from inside and winter frosting me over on the surface. The skies are like my bed sheet back home ..without a blemish, the air that we breathe is like champagne only changed into gaseous form. There are a thousand things to do .. to complete right this moment, infact am running late on so many things that i've just stopped counting but of comes like a reassuring pat that everything is smaller than me .. that this too like the winter of our discontent ..shall pass

Whats a worthy dream?

If someone asked me today what it is it that i really dream of doing or accomplishing with my life.. i'm not sure if the answer would satisfy either party . I mean what is really a dream worth dreaming? Would a ten bullet point plan of action be appropriate or a Sassuristic "higher" ideal desperately reeking of escapism be of the order? Is there really something like the big ticket success story or is it more like a collection of moments? Collection of moments like that incredibly tough three pointer on the nick of time in a basketball game that only 4 people in the world will ever remember and that too not for more than 3 days.. or the pure pleasure of sitting quite and watching someone sip her coffee .. or the warm feeling when you help out a random stranger for nothing..

I have a sinking feeling that i might not be the big ticket kinda guy.. that i might be the type whos busy collecting trinkets off the road while others are busy burning up the road running marathons... that i might be the guy people look at and nod their heads clucking despondently at " what he could have done with his potential .."... What does that make me then? A lazy bum who doesnt want to work hard ? Or someone who hasnt found something really worth fighting for ...yet :)

Sunrise Sunrise..

Its a perfectly good morning today ..and damn i dont like the first line of this post already. There's lots to feel happy about right this moment.. like no deadlines staring you in the face.. no classes for the next 2 days.. but the reason behind my smile right now is nowhere near as profound as the aforementioned reasons.. what has me in raptures is my pile of freshly washed laundry!! Duh.. lost the train of thought really .. no point blaberring on

I am surrounded by you .. to try to shut you out is like trying to shut out the sun and the wind.. tried doing that too over the last two days.. just me and my books in the dark cocoon of my room.. only got a lot of reading done but could not get you off my mind... its frustrating to realize how much of everything round me is you .. infact how much of me is infact just you .. Its futile and i have given up .. i'll lie here in decay like rose petals in sweet syrup awaiting their ruin .. I havent spoken much in the last 3 days and i almost feel like you in school .. the mind playing its own little games conjuring up its own little tricks to keep oneself entertained almost oblivous to everything around you including yourself. Its a strange vacuous feeling like being inside a hot air baloon .. its opressively hot but you can breathe and hence wont die and you are floating away and have a clear view of everything around you. Like being submerged in water..the sounds muted .. the colors tinted .. the mind sharper than ever in its consciousness . I have you all around me .. i realise i have enough of you around me to make do not for a day or two but for a lifetime .. I dont miss you as i am you.

Take me home

Home. The word means different things to different people at different times. To an expat software guy touching down on Indian soil would be coming home, to the soldier standing guard at the border or the worker away from home building ships in a distant shipyard home would be the state that he comes from the wind the soil the sounds the smells of which hes familiar with .

To me home is when you feel safe and warm and surrounded by memories and people that you know and who know you . Home is when you know every shortcut in the neighborhood , home is when the barber who cut your hair 20 years ago still remembers when he nicked you behind your ear, home is in the smell of dhuno in your colony and the hum of the water pump in your flat whose vibrations you can feel through your bed. Home is the kitchen where your mom packed your lunch before you left for school . Home is the roadside chowmin stall where you and your friends would share a plate of greasy chilly chicken.

I am twelve years old today and am just poring through some homework uninterestedly.. my mind wandering among the british castles of the latest Enid Blyton that am devouring right now, my ten year old sister is much more sincere and is almost done with hers... Its that time of the year when people start getting their portions for the final exams ... when people furiously bracket out and underline and xeroxise and copy out and mutilate textbooks in all colors of the world.. I would much rather trace the patterns on the yellow sunmica table top. Waiting patiently for 8 o clock .. thats when the hour long powercut is scheduled for. Babas not home , i have a ear cocked for the sound of the Vespa that i so love , Ma is getting ready , shes not cooking yet.. wonder why .. am kinda hungry .. lets try and sneak in one page of the fantastic five.. then we'll read about the vegetation in Russia. The squeaky parrot ..mammas pet squeaks on me as soon as i pick up the book .. i bang her on the head with the book .. rip out a little corner ands eat it .. Ok great timing.. Shit Babas back and Mumpys bawling.. WTF.. i didnt hit her THAT hard.. Baba comes in puts a dirty gross looking bag in the kitchen then picks up mumpy ...I meanwhile am totally engrossed in the Tundra and Taiga forests of Russia. WTF... hes asking us to get dressed!! is this really hapenning?? I mean we are GOING OUT ?? We might even have DINNER outside ?? My god .. fuck Russia.. Fuck its vegetation !! i cudnt care less if it had evergreens or tropical rainforests... Running faster than most Indian sprinters at the olympics am dressed in about 45 seconds flat... I am downstairs waiting for the three of them to come down ... am on the scooter , i feel the warm engine through the side cowls...the scooter smells of baba.. for a long time baba and the scooter were synonymous to me .. its drone was the signal of him coming back home .. of his leaving for the plant.. the same feeling of contentness at his coming back home and the uneasiness everytime he left home.

Am holding the handles in a mock ride.. its almost 8 pm we should be hurrying up. Everyones here ..in hindsight mostly wearing ghatly clothes and garish perfumes.. Baba always always wearing a shirt and a trouser that wouldnt match .. Maa in some non descript saree but beaming from ear to ear.. mumpy in some ready made frock with the plastic label sticking out of her back. Motley crue .. out for a ride ..me in front .. mumpy behind in between maa and baba. We start out i know already that we would go to sector 5 or maybe ambagaan or maybe BOTH and then dinner hopefully at Madhuban.. Am thrilled to bits just to be on the road.. to have the wind in my hair .. to see those orangish street lights streak by . As we move out the road and everything around plunges into darkness .. the 8 o clock powercut strikes again... but yippee it cant get us .. the mosquitos cant get us .. the sad hurriccane with its stifling kerosene fumes need not be lighted in our house today!! We take the right and straight onto the walled state highway .. weare almost at the junction with the ring road.. which ways he gonna turn ? Left means my favourite long ride in the whole world .. or whatever little that i have seen of it .. and it also means we are going to ambagaan .. if he takes the right means we are going to sector 5 ..equally delightful but we would miss out on ambagaan wont we? Left it issss !! yes ohh yess !! We start the steep climb onto the flyover.... then the steep descent down it... pass the little dirty buffalo lake on the right and the food godowns on the left .. then up again through the cut in the hills where the road passes through.. where its always warmer by a degree or two.. then down the long winding road as we pass the twin hills and the lonely dark airstrip .. and now the sectors start rushing by us !! one to the left one to the right .. one to the left and one to the right again .. 13 , 14, 15 to the left 9,8,7 to the right ... 16 , 17 , 18 to the left and the hugeee sector 6 to the right..with its fancy stadiums ... we are at ambagaan already .. its so difficult to understand where the market starts and where it ends.. this must be the BIGGEST market in the world.. its got entire lanes dedicated to shops of one kind.. theres this one lane which sells stationery .. this other which sells casettes .. this one which sells watches and shoes .. and these four corner shops .. my favourites which smell of varnish and leather and sell sports goods..

I remember so much of it and so vividly it feels almost like i am standing right there.. standing among memories .. standing among sights and smells and bulbs and little decorative lights.. Its like i am home again after a long long time

Kneeling down to pray..

How many times has it been that you say something and then almost immediately you regret having said that , that you do something break something , spill something , hurt something and immediately wish for a rewind button in life. All i can think of right now is the little girl sitting in line for her nth eye test that i hurt yesterday. The one who is faced with the unexciting prospect of yet another new pair of glasses. The man behind these empty words is hanging his head in shame .. ashamed of who he became in those two minutes yesterday. Hoping praying even that you would understand that he is not what you saw yesterday.