Sometimes I wake up with a sackful of butterflies in my stomach anticipating a surprise test.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I am standing outside the gate to Sky lawns parking my cycle, thinking whether to have the veg mayonnaise sandwich or the chilli cheese one.
Sometimes when the cold Ahmedabad breeze caresses my face, I am sitting on the wall in the freezing January fog with a cup of coffee sending piercing pangs of warmth through the woolen gloves on my palms.
Sometimes when I am sitting at Chai gate with my friends, having Laloo's ginger laced chai served a sipful in a cute little ceramic cup, I am sitting at Nagarji's redi having sam chat and coffee with another group of friends.
Sometimes when the day ends in Ahmedabad, the lights go on in C'not and the pigeons return to roost on the Pigeon path.
Sometimes when I am in the auto waiting at the traffic lights amidst the chaotic city traffic, I am riding my cycle like crazy in the middle of the road, my hands off the handlebar, concerned friends in pursuit shrieking their disapproval.
Sometimes when I am brushing my teeth standing at the washbasin, the mirror reflects the Rajasthani dhobin with the paloo pulled all the way over her face.
Sometimes I don't know where I am...
Sometimes I don't know what I am to whom...
I didn't leave a part of me behind in that place....I just carried a part of that place inside me, into this place... into this time.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Yet again...
Am I the river meandering along my way…bending and twisting myself in any whichever direction…
Am I the river desiring to touch new lands in my final journey towards that all-consuming ocean…
Am I really that free spirit which is not bound by anything except its own imagination…
Or am I the piece on the chessboard, counting the squares, calculating the moves each time…
Am I the brave knight or am I the crafty bishop with its crooked ways or am I just the unassuming pawn trundling along with hopes of a nobler destiny at the end of the road…
Am I just one of them, moving as per the rules, hoping for a win but preparing for a paltry draw with the game of life…
Am I right in asking myself “Who am I?” when all others have failed with no answer in sight…
Am I really courageous to look myself in the eye and answer the question or am I just indulging in calisthenics with words…
Am I the one I think myself to be or is my mind playing mind-games with me?
Am I the river desiring to touch new lands in my final journey towards that all-consuming ocean…
Am I really that free spirit which is not bound by anything except its own imagination…
Or am I the piece on the chessboard, counting the squares, calculating the moves each time…
Am I the brave knight or am I the crafty bishop with its crooked ways or am I just the unassuming pawn trundling along with hopes of a nobler destiny at the end of the road…
Am I just one of them, moving as per the rules, hoping for a win but preparing for a paltry draw with the game of life…
Am I right in asking myself “Who am I?” when all others have failed with no answer in sight…
Am I really courageous to look myself in the eye and answer the question or am I just indulging in calisthenics with words…
Am I the one I think myself to be or is my mind playing mind-games with me?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
on my mind...
The disillusionment on realising that you are living in a much diluted version of someone else's beautiful dream.........
Sunday, December 09, 2007
A page from the past...
Here's something I wrote 6 months ago....just felt like postin it out here....
Experiencing a homecoming without going home…how would that experience be? Well….I had never actually pondered on it till I set foot in Bangalore. The cool morning breeze hit me...just the way it would on mornings a year ago… Maybe the gods were with me too…I found an auto driver willing to charge me as per the meter reading :) The 5-odd km long déjà vu made me recollect everything which till that moment seemed forgotten in a hazy vague misty past in my head. The name of the school where my CAT classes used to happen, the restaurant in the street corner, even the number of the bus that I took to office. It might have just been another morning of 2005-06. And that’s when the whole ‘homecoming bit’ dawned on me and I swallowed it as a wobbly lump in my throat.
As the auto rounded the corner of 8th cross road, nostalgia swamped me in its welcoming arms. The house had changed. The place where I had stayed on the first floor was gone. In its place stood a proper house with a sweet old couple. The terrace had to be moved to a less important second floor. I entered the ground floor apartment. It seemed so much like home. The bed sheet, the pink and beige slippers that my friend had, the soft toys frolicking on the bed. The kitchen stood all equipped and set for cooking and yet the cobwebs and carelessly discarded wrappers slyly slipped to me the information that it had been a while since she had cooked.
I took a long refreshing bath. The bathroom had the same narrow washbasin, which so irritated me and the same kind of door, which split from the hinges at the slightest excuse. My wandering mind was seeking solace in these minor details.
I was hungry. The choice was obvious…pasta. I offered a light to the good old stove and it responded with a passionate burst. Hmm…. old flames don’t die ☺
Pasta, mango-flavored Tang and Lord of the Rings. I devoured them all for lunch. The bus journey had taken its toll on me and sometime later I slipped into a migraine-laced sleep.
The evening was in its prime as I emerged out of the house. A light drizzle had sizzled on the sun-baked roads and finally made its peace to settle in little puddles. I walked down to the BDA complex, unconsciously scanning the sea of faces and bodies for a familiar face or even a shirt or skirt or bag. The efficient booking system still marveled me…a year later. Having booked my blore-goa return ticket, I went to book the ticket to Pondy. What I thought would be a cakewalk turned out to be a nightmare. Not a single ticket to Pondy on Friday night. Well…there was one. But I was not given the seat as it was a “Gents Seat”’ (it amused, angered and pleased me at the same time) So I had another day in Bangalore. Hallelujah!!!
Meeting after a year and still being able to carry on from wherever you last left off…that’s a luxury you can have with very few people in your life. And so it was with my friend and me. Roommates for a year and a half, there was so much to talk about. It went on right through home into ‘Village’ restaurant and into CCD (the weekend ‘adda’ as we called it back then), meandered through the walk back home and ended just when the fairies of the night hushed us and led us by our hands to the chasm between today and tomorrow.
Experiencing a homecoming without going home…how would that experience be? Well….I had never actually pondered on it till I set foot in Bangalore. The cool morning breeze hit me...just the way it would on mornings a year ago… Maybe the gods were with me too…I found an auto driver willing to charge me as per the meter reading :) The 5-odd km long déjà vu made me recollect everything which till that moment seemed forgotten in a hazy vague misty past in my head. The name of the school where my CAT classes used to happen, the restaurant in the street corner, even the number of the bus that I took to office. It might have just been another morning of 2005-06. And that’s when the whole ‘homecoming bit’ dawned on me and I swallowed it as a wobbly lump in my throat.
As the auto rounded the corner of 8th cross road, nostalgia swamped me in its welcoming arms. The house had changed. The place where I had stayed on the first floor was gone. In its place stood a proper house with a sweet old couple. The terrace had to be moved to a less important second floor. I entered the ground floor apartment. It seemed so much like home. The bed sheet, the pink and beige slippers that my friend had, the soft toys frolicking on the bed. The kitchen stood all equipped and set for cooking and yet the cobwebs and carelessly discarded wrappers slyly slipped to me the information that it had been a while since she had cooked.
I took a long refreshing bath. The bathroom had the same narrow washbasin, which so irritated me and the same kind of door, which split from the hinges at the slightest excuse. My wandering mind was seeking solace in these minor details.
I was hungry. The choice was obvious…pasta. I offered a light to the good old stove and it responded with a passionate burst. Hmm…. old flames don’t die ☺
Pasta, mango-flavored Tang and Lord of the Rings. I devoured them all for lunch. The bus journey had taken its toll on me and sometime later I slipped into a migraine-laced sleep.
The evening was in its prime as I emerged out of the house. A light drizzle had sizzled on the sun-baked roads and finally made its peace to settle in little puddles. I walked down to the BDA complex, unconsciously scanning the sea of faces and bodies for a familiar face or even a shirt or skirt or bag. The efficient booking system still marveled me…a year later. Having booked my blore-goa return ticket, I went to book the ticket to Pondy. What I thought would be a cakewalk turned out to be a nightmare. Not a single ticket to Pondy on Friday night. Well…there was one. But I was not given the seat as it was a “Gents Seat”’ (it amused, angered and pleased me at the same time) So I had another day in Bangalore. Hallelujah!!!
Meeting after a year and still being able to carry on from wherever you last left off…that’s a luxury you can have with very few people in your life. And so it was with my friend and me. Roommates for a year and a half, there was so much to talk about. It went on right through home into ‘Village’ restaurant and into CCD (the weekend ‘adda’ as we called it back then), meandered through the walk back home and ended just when the fairies of the night hushed us and led us by our hands to the chasm between today and tomorrow.
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