Monday, May 31, 2010

Raw - Lightning


Sitting outside on my usual spot under the trees at 10 at night, just feeling the wind blowing through my newly two-toned hair, listening to Ahun Ahun and tappnig along, when suddenly the sky flashed.

I looked around at the people standing at the bus stop, a few yards away to see if they noticed. Nah, they didn't seem to be particularly affected. So I went back to AhunAhun and went back to my windfeelingthoughtthinking, debating about which song of Love Aaj Kal was my favourite, Dooriyan or Ahun, then there was of course Main Kya Hoon, and one certainly could not write off Thoda Thoda, but then why weren’t decisions as easy as knowing Ishq Hi Hai Rab was your favourite- when suddenly up above me, a little to my left, the sky disappeared. No, of course it came back. When I say disappeared, I mean it just went completely white, blank.

I paused, and shifted my eyes left and right as to ascertain that I was not just losing it. But no, it flashed again and the sky went electric blue around the edges of the clouds.

I press pause. Listen.

The sky flashed and suddenly, all sound stopped. No zoom of traffic, no people noise, everything faded away…nothing.

And no AhunAhun. Especially no AhunAhun. All of a sudden, all Ahun business and associates became the last thing on my mind. Lightning! Wind! Silence!

The possibilities were endless.

After a long day, a long HOT day, this was…

It was that resurfacing of something. Rain, no, the potential for rain. The possibility that at any second, that silence swallowing up the world could break loose as the sky fell apart and the clouds fell down in a sudden crash. It was positively delicious. It was full of something, that waiting, that held breath, that little hope and expectation, that little more of something, that little more that was joy, and every bit as much, sorrow.

It was beautiful, and such beautiful weather deserved a beautiful song.

Like playing slots at the casino, I hit the next button on my mp4 set on random shuffle.

The choices were many, hundreds. I was playing with slim chances, but the weather was on my side, either I lost out compleely, or the song would definitely play if IT was meant to be the right song.

When the music started, I smiled. I knew it.

Four minutes, thirty nine seconds.


10:35 pm.

Still no rain.

Out again under the skies, for that Gal Sun length walk, I was thinking over the day. It was a good one. Funny how it sort of ended with missing the person you see everyday. I thought of today as we tramped through the forests, reaching the top of the hills, walking branches over the river, doing the whole outdoors thing. Friends.

And then, here comes the rain. And on a nice ending to the night:

aankhon mein anjaane rehte manzar ke
seene mein chubti hain koi bebasi nai
yaadon mein basi kuchh baaten ankahee
unn baaton mein kahin khoyi hain zindagi…


Friday, May 28, 2010

Collage-N End.

What is distance to a bird?

To be able to reach the highest height in a matter of seconds. To soar over a city in a manner of minutes, to swoop over miles in a blink of an eye, to glide to its destination in the fraction of a heartbeat.

What is distance to a bird?

A multitude of thoughts spring from one : The morning song of a bird.

Mornings are best revered as this, the quiet communion of birds to daybreak. Maybe this is why I am a morning person.

As I was walking along, soaking in the radiance, I located the call to the caller, the song to the singer: perched atop a lamppost was my darling dove.

As it let out another throaty call, it was answered; A few paces onward and there atop the neighbouring lamppost was its partner in duet.

Cute, sweet, and all that, in many aspects.

The companionship, the easy togetherness they shared without the rest of the world’s knowledge, the ‘specialness’ they shared without really saying a world, the closeness even when apart.

So what is a distance to a bird?

Is being apart just a birdsong away from being together?                    

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Collage-N Part 16

I haven’t slept. All night. Ok, so make that Thursday, May 27. 5 am.

No matter how I tried, sleep just would not come, and for no really real reason- sure it was too hot for comfort, the neighbours didn’t consider 3 am to be too late for making noise on the streets or too early for bedtime, and well, then there’s the light. Full moon night, and the ghosts have no rest. So what does that make me? Hours of sleeplessness slowly and surely persuade me that, if not me, than surely the night is haunted. And the ghosts? Ghosts are memories.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Collage-N Part 15


Physically, and emotionally.

Just a bit under a week of heat and my knees down are distinctly darker than the rest of my legs. Same goes for elbows to fingertips.

Emotionally, well that’s a bit harder to explain.

It involves the content vs. the malcontent. Nothing really new there, is there? Now. So why now?

One week (onewholeweekhasjustflownby!) since last week. I don’t know where I get it in my head that maybe, just maybe, same day of the week, same time, same place equals same situation. How about NO. BIG FAT NO.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Collage-N Part 14

27 degrees.


Cannot go wrong with another beautiful day.

I don’t know why I love traveling on public transit. Ok I know why, but it’s just one of those things that you feel at a loss of being able to really explain, just because you feel it to such an extent of sublime content.

I like it, because it’s freedom. Like a microcosm of traveling the world alone. You go place to place, someone else is doing the work, you sit and enjoy the ride. The world goes by, and you don’t need to rush or drive faster, because no matter what, you can only sit and wait for however fast or slow the ride can go. So, you enjoy.

And if one wants to get deeper: that’s life.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Collage-N Part 13

Another long day. I wake up, what, at 6, and its bright outside. Gotta love it. 8 and outide, it’s burning down on my head. Woohoo!

I just love this weather. Aaahh, not yet too hot, but comfortably no-jacket weather.

And PUHLEASE, when you tell me the weather is ‘nice’, I want you to walk 5 miles in it first before telling me it is, ‘cuz if you’re a door to car door sissy you ain’t getting any credibility from me sweethaht.

Yes, hyper.

Music is mixing on first halves of every random shuffle song that comes:

- bin tum gum sum hone lage jaane.. kis duniya khone lage
- Mohabbat se zyaada mohabbat hai tumse yeh dil ke raha hai kasam se kasam se
- kyun koi paas hai, duur hai, kyun koi jaane na koi yahan pe yeh dooriyaaaan
- kaddi te has bolllll ve, na jind saddi rol ve.. tu aaja dil janiya de kar meherbaniyan aa sanu teri lod ve na jind saddi ron ve
- teri umeeeeeed teri baaatein, woh lamha lamhaa katati tere naam se raatein
- ghadi pal yara

and finally getting off the bus, the shuffle lands on

Ek lakh nakhre re re re re re…
Lakh lakh nakhre rehne de, chale naa tere koi paintare….

Tell me I can’t get hyper. How can I not.

Anyways, the mood went as soon as I got in out of the sun, and faced the long tiring day ahead. Meh.

Getting mad (me, mad? Who says?) And finally getting told that

I have attitude.


Not hearing, raised eyebrow and asking politely (POLITELY) and excuse me?
how can anyone tell me I have attitude to my face like that.
But no, in fact I get told again that
I have too much attitude.

Ha, ha, ha.

Yeah. Now that clears it up.

I have attitude and raising one’s eyebrows and thanking them for the newsflash gets me a free drink and icecream. It all works out.


It was actually a nice day in terms of the friend aspect. Somehow I can always count on someone to cheer me up, or at least understand me in some part, even if on some days that has to be me. But if it aint me, then my personality twin aint so bad either. I don’t know what exactly to call him, because sure, he is a best friend. I’d say he’s one of my best friends. But he isn’t MY BEST FRIEND. I mean, he is, but he isn’t. he’s like sometimes my male other half, but not that. Whatever. Some people just make your day. Doesn’t matter if you don’t have a label, the medicine works.

How can we dream the same dream and yet go farther
How can we dream in the same direction and walk in opposite ways
How can we be so completely together and in being together move father apart.

I just don’t get it.
I don’t get what ‘it’ is
I don’t get how I can’t get it when I don’t know what it is that I don’t get.

Is it possible for a butterfly to chase a tail it does not have?

Sometimes its oddly interesting the things you can learn – when you weren’t expecting it. But then again, that’s just it- we try our best to not expect in order to survive just that little more easily. So how could we go about with saying ‘ I didn’t expect that’ when so saying you imply otherwise, that by not expecting you were expecting not to.

And so, what I’ve learnt – unexpectedly while having that best friend time- doing what we do best ie. Speculating about dream things: houses, cars.. to begin with. And me always being the way I am me, going on to the usual ‘what if’s : dream vacations spots. Point in fact that I was surprised at his choices made me realize that 1) we do in fact have differences and 2) that I wasn’t really all that surprised since I know him as well as he knows himself.

But mostly I realized that although I can be so damned complicated with all the thinkings and such that seem to pour out of every pore (ha), that my choices showed that deeply imbedded simplicity that is really me.

Whereas he likes the cities, the crowds, the rich lifestyle types, there I am wanting solitude on the white beaches, clear waters, blue skies of the Mediterranean and the forests and glades of the Alps. Granted, that by itself isn’t surprising. It’s more really with respect to the contrast. Which brings to mind Aristotle: man can only live a good life in society.

I’d already written an essay on that one line years ago and like many of my musings, has permanently imbedded itself in my mental clockwork.

For, how can we really measure ourselves in terms of how good or how bad we are by remaining in isolation. There isn’t anything nor anyone to compare with so how can one know? And all that we do know of goodness, that itself comes from the workings of society. So when so much of society continually changes its aspect, does goodness change? Do the abstract essences that guide us invisibly also change? Morality, humanity…does love change?

And when we cannot accurately, acutely, define it for what it is, but collectively acknowledge a somewhat vague existence, how can we tell?

Being so openminded and tolerant and understanding is sometimes hardwork.

I’ve got so many sides that it’s confusing trying to understand them.

And this is ME. Imagine someone else trying to.

Actually, no. It isn’t as bad as it sounds. I love being me. I love the fact that me by myself is someone I can enjoy being with for protracted amounts of time. I don’t bore myself, which is something not everyone can say.

So, whatever mysteries of myself I have yet to understand or yet to reveal, there’s always tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Collage-N Part 12

How do I become so close to someone I’ve only just met? I wonder why this often happens to me. On 5 difference circumstances in the past few weeks I’ve had the occasion of working with a different person each time and there was that automatic comfort zone with each and every one of them. Only 1 girl-woman I had to deal with for a few hours I just could not get that comfortable with. And that’s probably because she was a crackhead. (No, literally.)

Monday, May 17, 2010

Collage-N Part 11 :)

Clouds and waves.
What can really compare to Your creation?

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Collage-N Part 10


I can’t blame you for leaving. Leaving the way you did. Leaving just like that. Or like in the Teri Yaad Bahut mix;

“she (he) left you
Left you
Without a note
Telling you
She (he) left you…”

So you left. You were gone. You are gone.

When we are faced with circumstances we cant comprehend, which leave us without answers, which in fact hurt us deep down, somewhere where it is so deep that when it hurts you can’t feel it, because it’s left you numb with the pain of it. When we just cannot fathom how such things happen, we want to instinctively turn this way and that trying to finger blame wherever we think is apt. but after the storm dies down, what are you left with but the puddles?

Because I were to look back father, I never thought that I would have met a person like you. And now that you are gone, I can sit here listening to my Winnie The Pooh mp3 that I hadn’t touched in months and relive the feelings the songs bring back.

naseebon mein jaane likha aur kya,
hain kismat mein apni chupa aur kya
yeh fikre khudaai tu chod ke
apni tamannao ko rang de
iske siva jeena hai aur kya
jam gaya so gaya woh kal bhul ke
aaj ki maauj mein chala jhool ke
ho jashn kaisa jhoome jahaan
aaye na aaye kal kya pata
aashiyaan ban gaya mera dil aaj se…


You gave me so much. So much that was already myself. You taught me so much. All that was there but indistinctive from the rest that was already me. You showed me that the person I wanted to be, the person I was constantly in search of, that person was no other than ‘I’. You were like a mirror held up, reflecting what I could be, by simply being me.

Through you, I dared, because I knew you were there. I dared because daring was not so much a risk than it was to be me. For whatever reasons you came into my life, you were the light that dazzled the eyes and when you suddenly left, it was like plunging into darkness, until I realized that you were always simply the mirror showing me what I hadn’t seen before.

aaj ko baandh lu main in zulfon se
thaam lu main yeh pal meri palkon se
ho jashn aaisa jhoome jahaan
aaye na aaye kal kya pata
aashiyaan ban gaya mera dil aaj se..

Monday, May 10, 2010

Collage-N Part 9

Sometimes, I grab for my notebook as soon as I can and try to get down in words the thoughts that had been floating out of my skull as fast as I can. The trouble with this is that its really difficult to remember every single thought and, as is the case now, where it came from.

Just now, I sat with a pen poised, ready to write, and in so doing, let myself relive the 5 minutes previously, what I was doing, how I felt, and what and why I thought what I thought. I can’t remember how exactly I started thinking. I recall locking the front door, putting the keys in my jacket pocket, realize it was actually warm again, and therefore did not need the winter jacket. I remember the afghan neighbours across the road stopping to watch me walk past, pulling out my hair from under my hood, walking to the corner where two highschool girls were laughing insanely, and then pulling out my sunglasses and closing my eyes facing the sun.

Was it here where I zoned into Lalaland, I don’t know. It all feels like one of those dreams that happen and you awake only to recalls bits and pieces, but in bad print.

But what I do recall vividly is that feeling of the sunshine on my face. On this subject, I will always sound repetitive, unapologetically so. And, the thought that occurred to me was the freedom of being able to enjoy it.

- which now brings me back to what started this train of thoughts. Being on the late side, I was in a bit of a rush and thought how nicely convenient it would be to just step out of my house and have a bus stop perhaps across the road, rather than having to walk to roundabout walk I had to do twice every day between home to bus. That was what I was thinking at the moment I was pulling out my sunglasses. The moment I felt the sun on my face however, chanced my mind. That 4.39 minute walk (scientifically concluded based on the findings that the walk was the exact same length as Gal Sun), was the means behind pretty much all of the blogeristic musings thus far written. As to what comes next; what I’d thought, or rather, felt, was that this 4.39 minute walk was a luxury in a busy day. It was my chance to simply ‘be’ – to feel, and appreciate: the sunshine, the sky, the wind, the rain, the moon, the stars. And I thought, or rather felt, pity for those who live continuously from door to car door and back. I considered once more, how non-committing taking the bus wherever I wanted to go was without having to worry about a steering wheel, the stop signs, stoplights, or the road ahead. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

This takes me to another query of mine: whether a person prefers being a driver or a passenger, and its correlation to personality type.


The (former) Library Security Guard has entered the bus. I repeat-

Whowhatwherewhenwhyhowwhowhatthehell. Yo. I don’t KNOW him.
I mean, he doesn’t know ME. I mean, HEH I haven’t seen him in MONTHS. Ok scarap that, I saw him for 2 seconds while I was in the process of writing a pm to someone else. I remember now. And now, and now, here I am writing about.. something, and here is this this..PERSON.


What is this.


Not even that.

Mental slap to self. Left hook. Right left right. Brrr.

What is it with tall guys?!?!?! I don’t understand this…

No he WAS a crush. No, just eye-candy. Not even that. Ahaan! Anyways he was nobody. I was nobody. We were nobodies in a nobody sort of nobody way… who just happened to see each other everyday (EVERYDAY) for a few months. Thassall.

Anyways. Who cares.

At least I know he takes the bus. (he takes the BUS??!!)

And where he gets on. And where he gets off. *stalker alert*

This is just odd. How we keep running into each other. Even now.


Bolna painda ae puttar, bolna painda ae. (LOL)

Saturday, May 08, 2010

Friday, May 07, 2010

Collage-N Part 7

Last night on the train, I looked at my fellow train-takers and, a thought, a question, occurred to me. There was the couple in the corner to my right, looking tired amid their piercings and tattoos, holding hands in silence. To the left of them, a youngish oldish black girl holding onto an envelope and slowly opening it and reading it, all the while looking confused, sad, hopeful. Then a trio of giggly young Chinese girls, dabbing on their lipgloss and gossiping and teasing each other. Just a quick snapshot of a few of those around me.

And the thought that occurred to me (not for the first time, admittedly) was that each of these people had a hope of love in their hearts. In the midst of all their separate lives, all these different people brought here in one place for whatever reasons, they believe, have believed, or will believe, that there is one person out there in their world for them. How? Why?

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Collage-N Part 6

Dreams, dreams and still more dreams. Where do they come from, why do they occur, and who is it that continuously makes this appearance. I know, somewhat, the answer to the first two. It’s all in the mind, right? Ok, but then, why do I also get dreams that actually happen in reality days later? So if it’s all in the mind, then what’s reality? Sure I believe in the power of thought, but.. I wouldn’t go as far as saying my thought power actually precipitates events that affect others. In any case, this was The Other Type Of Dream. The recurring Mystery Man dream. Though occurred to one, why do I often seem to meet him at the bus stop? I don’t think the chances of my Prince Charming being someone I really meet there are that favourable. So, beyond the tangible, why the bus stop?

When I woke up this morning, the thought that gradually came to me, when I asked myself this question, was that Sai often dreams of meeting her Mystery Man at the airport.

Now there are two locations that do begin to connect. But, still, why? They are two places of travel, got that down, check. I take the best more often. She’s taken the place more often. Check. We have yet to meet our MMs, so, these are pretty apt ways of ‘meeting’ ‘new’ people. Ok, so? So, let’s now go into content.

In my dreams, I’m standing there waiting. So maybe, it’s the waiting that translates into the dream. Waiting, apparently for the bus. Descramble: waiting for the right bus to take me to the right destination.

In the same way, he’s there doing the same, and in waiting together, somehow without acknowledging it, or each other, we realize that where it is we’re going we want to go there together. Without even saying anything, there is the unspoken feeling that we want to be together. And that’s the thing, we don’t talk. We don’t even look at each other. We don’t even know that we do know each other.

Just thinking of it, remembering it, makes me smile inside, because, it’s a special feeling. Even it being just a random dream and all that. Of being so entirely aware of this person, and pretending you are not. And knowing they are doing and feeling the same.

This morning, as I stepped outside, the first thing that grabbed my attention was the half moon shining there up in the blue sky. I don’t know why such things make me so happy. There up on my right the almost translucent glow of the moon, and on my left, the radiant warmth of the sun.

Do they realize they are there? Or do they simply accept that their paths in this lifetime, whatever that lifetime be measured by, was meant to bring them together this way for this moment in time. And who could say how long they’ve waited – perhaps again and again- how long have they waited for a single moment. Perhaps they have waited beyond the endurance of anyone who could possibly witness. Perhaps beyond what they could possibly ever remember; that they have gone this cycle so numerously that they have no sense of when they began and when they shall end. Perhaps they’ve accepted the existence of the other out there in the universe, and they haven’t questioned what it is they share. To give light, to accept light. Perhaps it has become such an existence that to stop would be to stop existing. To love, to be love.

Who could say?

Monday, May 03, 2010

Collage-N Part 5

The Moth.

There has been a moth in my room every night I got home from work for a week or so. Despite removing it from the premises - through the back door, through the front door, through the window - the following night, it is back in my room.

Another weird situation of mine, I guess. Begs a load of questions to be asked. But I've gotten in the habit of simply accepting the questionable. So, the Moth does its interesting dance each night while I watch on, bemused, before showing it out the door. Thank you, goodnight.

I've since realized that the Moth in its own bizarre dance symbolizes the aspects of certain people. The thought struck me while thinking about a conversation with a certain friend. The way she couldn't stay in a place, always apparently restless. Maybe not to herself, but given a rundown on her habits, you'd notice. Sleeping cycle pretty much nonexistent, eating habits from starvation to junk binges, the overall attention deficit symptom that have her planning to do something then deciding she does not feel like it. The Moth. Flying crookedly here, flitting crookedly there, never really resting on one spot long enough before moving on to another destination.

Then, once this thought came to me, almost right on the heels came the realization that the Moth could just as well fit the personality of another friend of mine. Not just the erratic movement this time, but the lack of letting itself remain too close to anything for too long. It descends, and sits, then realizes it can't stay in the arrangement for too long, else it may get hurt, possibly. Maybe it just isn't ready to settle down yet. In any case, it can't commit to one place for too long; it just isn't comfortable with putting too much trust in something that may just turn out to be temporary. Nothing is forever. The Moth.

Then, there's the one person I know, or think I know, the best of anyone else. The one who seeks out new things here and there, yet searching for that extra...that special something. The Moth.

That revels in its wings and the embodiment of what they signify. The ability to fly, to become as one with the wind, to live unfettered by the things that would keep it grounded. Mostly, constantly craving freedom: getting fooled by the light that can be controlled by others – only to realize that the true light was where it came from. But on the way out suddenly a window comes in the way – and the thing the moth wants is so close yet still too far. That is the moth that is called Me.

Sunday, May 02, 2010

Collage-N Part 4


For some reason, the world is still pretty much asleep at 9 on a Sunday morning, and its one of the best times to be out. According to me.

Mornings, early early mornings, when the morning is still empty, when you can walk outside and just listen to the silence.

Today's great moment was experienced going to work early this morning. Humid weather, balmy breeze, and just as my mp3 started up on Ehsaan's awesome intro (it's half the reason why I love the song. That, and the lyrics), into the first few lines and then right at the RIGHT moment, the world suddenly just opened up and the skies started falling- hard. It. Was. Beautiful.

For some reason (as usual), it coincided with my mood, which was a bit melancholy. Maybe it was because of the humidity. Maybe it was the tiredness, and not wanting to work (rare). I know a bit of it was not getting to talk to that special someone as my Sundays usually determined. I know part of it was due to thoughts related to the movie of the night before. Granted, a hindi movie about an alien from Venus wouldn't seem all that touching. But seriously, Jaane kahan se aayi hai has some great moments. I guess it doesn't matter which circumstances you find it, the things that you can relate to somehow make their way under your skin...