Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I am thee

I'm not me but eternally thee!
Meet you soon at the edge of a brave new world!

Monday, February 19, 2007

On V-day

Footloose in CCM, Noida: The faded look!

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Hankering Heart

We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied to us. ~Francois Rabelais

Strange are the ways of the world. Never once in our lifetimes do we entirely get what we yearn for. As kids we often cry for that elusive candy. We go restless for myriad mysterious and anomalistic things, as we grow up. I can’t tell how it feels like when we age but it must be the same. The curious cycle has to continue somehow. You can’t exactly explain the phenomenon. It is rather quirky and enigmatic. It is about passion. About half-seen dreams. About hope and hopelessness – all in one whiff!

An angel whispered something to me, the other day. I feel a strong tug in the heart, as I reminisce about it. Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting. Though unbidden it will stir open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us. Guides us. Rules us all and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love. The clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace, the angel suggests. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without it we'd be truly dead.

I pine for someone, who I reckon is the best dream, one can ever visualize. I love to miss our moments. The feeling. The passion. The togetherness. The glares. The glint in the eye. Like a kid, I play hide and seek with my emotions. Yeah, it is difficult. It is fun. It is beautiful. It is fleeting. While it may appear to be going away, I know it is mine. I’ll touch it like none can!
That is because my heart hankers for the someone. And I know, I sound Socratic today!


Thursday, February 15, 2007

The world is white

God's confetti: Snow blankets homes and hearts in the US

Happy V-day

It is that time of the year when marketers go the whole hog.
Taget-1: Teenagers. Target-2: Media-dazed Gen-X.
Taget-3: All and Sundry.
The tempo reaches a frenzied pitch just a few days before the actual V-day. It is almost maddening on 2/14. Every passing year, the carnival gets noisier. Columnist David Bach puts it rather discreetly, ‘Is Valentine's Day about love or money?’ My heart tells me it should be about love and appreciation for those who matter most to us, but facts show that Valentine's Day is truly big business. Restaurants and café’s are crammed full, flowers cost you a fortune and gift stores stack everything your heart may desire. And your wallet can afford. Frankly, it has just been reduced to pink balloons, ridiculously-prized cards and collective public display of emotions. An advertiser’s true delight. No wonder all the RJ’s – at all the FM stations – playing in my car croon just one theme: It is V-day, v-day. Overwhelm them, lest they forget!

I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon. As an aside, I am not per se a V-day scrooge. I like it – when there is a lot of love around. But does it have to be so blasé. So shallow. So ostentatious. Do we need to market emotions like we the way we handle any detergent? Is it sensible to plaster ‘I love u honey’, over newspaper broadsheets and ever-soppy TV channels? Whatever happened to thoughtfulness? Sanity? Real emotions? If you love someone, you simply love him-her. Period. I think it is more important to be sensitive to each others feelings, rather than getting carried away by market forces. En masse. The forces will never care to explain: You don't love someone for their color, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.

It takes more then lace and ribbons. And lovely verses too to make a Valentine that is nice enough for you. It takes a world of special thoughts tucked into every thought and that is exactly what must be inside of our hearts! I reckon there is nothing wrong with people going out on this day. Holding hands. Buying boxes and stuffed hearts and deodorants for one another. Or eating heart-shaped cakes together. Drinking a few beers, after having to wait outside a bar for many valuable hours. Giggle. For all to see. That’s when -- according to some -- the feelings come a full circle, as it leaves nothing to imagination.

We forget however that love is a canvas pattern furnished by Nature, and embroidered by imagination. Happy V-day.


Friday, February 09, 2007

Thought that counts

The platelet count – famously dubbed as hi-fi disease for hi-fi people by my buddy – is back to normal. I can sleep proper. The fever has now vanished, along with the accompanying squeeze. After an unexpected rest – a la roi – over an extended weekend, it is business as usual. I work, listen to music, talk to people I like and I read. I stay cheerful also. One must always strive to. It's one way of being wise.

Winter is in its last throes in Delhi. I am pleasantly wakened by the morning chill, which reminds me of Kashmir. As I paced this morn, I sensed that things around me -- door, wall, the floor were all very solemn as if trying to creak their responses to my every query. I love this unsettling feeling. When the most surprising things occur at the most importune times.

Nobody feels likes to sit back and do nothing on a fabulous day. You’d prefer a slow waltz in this weather. The thought came to me like an amatory chess game as it tried to masterfully lure me into it. Until I shrugged myself free of it. You can’t afford to allow your heart ramble too much. You can’t continue to expect the unexpected. You can only try and be good in the heart.

I saw flamingoes fly in my dream last night. The pack seemed to shimmy in and out of my dreams. I too tried to fly with them but couldn’t. At times I think I possess the heart of a child – so naïve, so alone. Thinking of things, no more mine. Enamored. Childlike. Often it takes a lifetime to understand the logical and illogical limitations to the realm of the heart. And doubts still linger.

Life is a whole lot less complicated.
It is love that makes the world go round. It is the feeling. The good in us.

After all, it is the thought that counts!


Sunday, February 04, 2007

Unwell saga

It was snowing but the snow didn’t simply fall to the earth. It was falling onto me, onto memories. When I was a kid and fall was over, it used to snow. And the washerwoman sang songs the color of flowers and the color of leaves, which were no more. All was quieter, whiter and brighter. At this, I woke up.

The injection was giving me unbearable pain in the groin. The fever just won’t go. I had hardly slept for half an hour. For those who came in late, I’m down with high temp – aches – and sleeplessness for the last few days. I am still unwell, though a little better. My temp is 210 F, having teased me at 217 F during the last few days.

I am still writing this post because I am terribly bored of being cooped in my bed doing nothing. Writing is the silence of thought and the music of sight. I realize though that I am not 100% -- I may be 30% -- and can’t reflect very clearly enough. I may not appear witty or stylish. I don’t intend to.

I’ve to go for another round of blood tests tonight. They have taken a lot of blood already. I don’t like being pricked but I quietly give myself over to them. The docs say my platelets are on the lower side. I hope to get them back soon!

Till then, Au revoir