I put on my tennis shoes. Slowly and deliberately. I picked up the key and the lock, pulled on the jacket and stepped out. The chill in the air hit me the minute I opened the door and instinctively I tugged the jacket closer. The key turned twice and the door was locked. Running down the stairs I recalled how I suffered from this inability to walk up or down stairs. I always skipped a step, running up or down the stairs. I don’t recall any particular moment in the past from where to source this anomaly from. Nor could I associate any deep seated memory, the kind that explains strange fears we all have.

I was outside the building by the time these thoughts finished their journey through my head and the throbbing resumed. It matched the rhythm with which I walked. Matching me step for step. There was nobody outside at this time; which wasn’t something that was odd I thought to myself. The trees were half naked, the winter air having stripped them. And the sound of the dry leaves crumpling under my feet as I walked seemed to be deafeningly loud. It was an extremely quiet dawn and my even though I had not slept the entire night I was keenly aware of everything around me. She hadn’t called nor messaged; in fact, there wasn’t any dramatic ending or any perceivable ending at all. It had all just melted away with the distance and time that had grown healthily like all unwanted things always do. I needed my walk; it’s what I did when something troubled me. I walked fast trying to outpace the throbbing in my head.

"Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind"

- S & G

The song plays slowly, while I sit in my balcony harmonica in hand.

It was a long time back, a time that seems lost now, that I'd told you this was my most favourite thing. Sitting here like this, trying to pick lost memories in the dead of the night.

At the risk of sounding repetitive:

"I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need."

Spent the day learning the Elven script (Quenya style). Stumbled through random poetry sites and discovered a new poet I'm beginning to like. All this in the middle of exams. What will ever become of me, I wonder.

Sample this:

In Praise of Self-deprecation

The buzzard has nothing to fault himself with.
Scruples are alien to the black panther.
Piranhas do not doubt the rightness of their actions.
The rattlesnake approves of himself without reservations.

The self-critical jackal does not exist.
The locust, alligator, trichina, horsefly
live as they live and are glad of it.

The killer-whale's heart weighs one hundred kilos
but in other respects is light.

There is nothing more animal-like
than a clear conscience
on the third planet of the Sun.
- Wistawa Szymborska

Avalanche

Well I stepped into an avalanche,
it covered up my soul;
when I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident
as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold;
he does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.

When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.

You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind;
the crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.

Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
you don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure,
it is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.

- Leonard Cohen.

Easily the most lethal song I've heard in a long time. Falling miserably in love with his songs.

I talk to you to talk to you. The conversations now veer on the superficial. I'd like to think that it doesn't mean much, but it does.

All these sticky spider webs of feelings came and engulfed me through the day. I slept half awake, floating in the space in between; semi conscious, aware of my slumber. At times I sank deeper and deeper and imagined myself meeting Nakata and watching him converse with a cat and hoping for fish rain. I woke up feeling strangely still as if in a dream and spent the subsequent hour reading Wind Up Bird Chronicle. At the end of it, I was Toru Okada, I had a well inside me where I went and yelled “The Emperor has donkeys’ ears”, every time I felt upset and sad. And the dark well swallowed up my thoughts in which she walked every day.

Neverland

Each day I live like a fool, believing in a story as pretty as this.

Can't believe it's taken me so long to discover Colin Hay. It's THE voice. And an honest song.

Time travel...

It's been AGES since I got to do this. And I miss it so much. Sit in my room with my songs and my books. And then it’s freefall.

I travel back in time, walk down the crowded lanes. Every turn is new and has a new shop. Some sell counterfeit currency; a black market. I wonder if the police know about it. It seems so obviously in the open. I'm suddenly scared wondering if there's a reason why these shops operate in the open. I wonder if it's safe at all to be here, worried about her. And in a minute that thought is lost as I look up at the little piece of sky I can see through the overcrowding cables, half broken tiles and crumbling balconies reaching out to each other from both sides of the road. My eyes are caught by the mess of tangled wires that clog the sky view. Wisps of blue smoke and the smell of fried sweetmeat catch my eyes and fill my nose. There are jewellers, clothes shops and glittering colourful wares all around. Cycles, rickshaws, pushcarts cramp every stride I take and it takes skillful weaving through them to make any progress. Enchanted and in a trance I don't realise how far I've gone losing myself in the lanes. Right now I'm partly there in that labyrinth of life and partly I'm a shadow following my companion and myself. Walking, watching and wishing that moment back.

I travel back in time, to my corridor outside my room in the corner of the 1000 acre campus that was home for four years. We've just got back from dinner eating ice cream and stand in the end of the corridor in front of our rooms. S and I can't stop ourselves from taking P's case over L's legendary faux pas. Somehow, right now I can see three figures in the dark in that corner guffawing, standing from where I am in between C and D blocks on the 1st floor connector.

I travel back in time to my silver fort. Sitting alone with my music. Purging my system. Feeling everything from awe to anguish in flood of thoughts, for a fleeting moment I feel I could fly off into the dark sky, speed across the waters of the sea before me. A sense of power engulfs me, removes me from the city behind, tears me away from my regular average life and throws me to my imagination.

Today I write bad prose. Nothing comes to me anymore, the feelings are much more intense and the sense of being trapped is much harder to take.

The lights are dim again. The music I like to play low. No need for wit tonight, just some vacuous talk would do. And yet, even that fails me. I sit still and feel my body go hollow from inside. Quietly and slowly, the storm tears everything apart.

It was cloudy and the moon barely managed to light up the sky. The silver beach lay behind me as I waded into the water until I was waist deep. I had this strong urge to walk on further. The water was icy cold and the sky near the horizon was inky black. A few stars glimmered in the west and almost called out to me. The waves crashed into the rocks behind and there lay a forest beyond.

They were all sitting in one corner and the faint sounds of laughter drifted across in the salty air. I had walked to the other end of the beach and stood there as the water and wind chilled my bones. Somehow all the laughter and the jokes and the fun vacation seemed a little distant in that moment. All I wanted was to sit in the red sandstone fortress. In the uncomfortable heat and grime and savour that moment of silence that spoke a million words. To walk in those lanes and start from the beginning and play out everything all over again.

Rain

The rain fell through the entire night. Speeding and slowing down as it pleased. I slept an intermittent fitful sleep and everytime I woke up I heard the drops sound on the leaves and the brick walkways outside my balcony. A mish mashed patter of soft sounds. I thought of you and how I almost had everything perfect and then somewhere down the road I began losing you to my fears. I remembered a similar rainy night a few months back. It was stormy and thunderous then and I couldn't sleep. I felt warm and fuzzy that day.

There aren't too many memories, you can argue, and I'd agree. Probably there are just a few of them playing out different variations in my head, seeming to be numerous. All with different possibilities and outcomes; pleasant ones and almost dreamlike, from the recent past. A time I hold to be the best in my life yet. I don't know where this is going or where I want to go with it.

A night by the beach and cheap liquor I need. Hopefully I'll be prepared to face the downpour better.

Reminded of an excerpt from The Motorcycle Diaries...

I heard splashing on the boat
her bare feet
And sensed in our faces
the hungry dusk
My heart swaying between her
and the street, the road.
I don't know where I found the strength
to free myself from her eyes
to slip from her arms
she stayed, crying through rain and glass
clouded with grief and tears
Wait! I will come
walking with you.

-Miguel Otero Silva

"I wonder..

why I miss
the choices I never made,
the days I never spent,
the lives I never lived,
the dreams I never dreamt,
the memories I never had,
the pains which I never endured.

It is not that Life seems meaningless without you,
Or the world any less grotesque
Or science any less profound or art uninspiring and religion any less hypocritical
Or literature less intricate and philosophy any less boring.
It is not that Life is nothing but the occasional burst of laughter rising above the interminable wail of grief

Maybe,
It is just that we met,
and somehow lost an era we almost had."
-Dawn Thomas
one of the best I have come across, strikes too many chords and thus shamelessly reproduced

wishing to...

go back in time. read gibran and poems which talk of my life better than I'd myself had ever been able to. live in the kca and know that I can walk to the fort in under 10 minutes to see the prettiest sunset followed by a frothing sea lash away at the rocks below in silver moonlight. spend sundays eating pizza and watching tv. eat reshmi tikka biryani at cafe noorani for the n-th time. set off aimlessly from home and end up reading my book by marine drive. be on the early morning flight to delhi , look down at the mist covered views of bombay and feel the chill in my spine as the sun rose above the clouds illuminating the entire sky in an explosion of brilliant orange. just know that the day ahead would be one of the best memories i ever had. run across the red sandstone corridor of the masjid, walk in the crowded lanes behind it and have another lunch at karim's. stand outside delhi airport waiting to go in in time for my flight wishing this wasn't the final goodbye.

i want to go back in time and then freeze it there, press play and then stop, rewind and play again. each time i'd do something different and enjoy every moment of the million possibilities. and never come back to now.

let's go back to the start...

Hope to go back to the start and take a totally different road far far away from where I am right now.



Totally awesomest a cappella group. Must listens are their renditions of the Bohemian Rhapsody and Breakfast at Tiffanys.

There are these moments when I feel I'm falling off this cliff. Right now is one of them. It's breakpoint. Over and Over and Over again.

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

......

Have got it figured out all wrong. The battle has to be fought alone. There is no shelter, no giver. It's a stranded island.

Independence day eve. Possibly the most peaceful time for me. Nothing at the back of my mind. Had been planning way ahead to chuck everything for today and just relax. Ah well... I wish!

The worst is that it's not just college and the workload that gets you. Suddenly you're swamped with the thoughts and feelings you hate. And I hate it when things get like that. Almost like a cold that never never leaves you, always lurking in the background to get you down any moment.

Need a few songs to hide behind.

I can't define it. I just can't. I can't seem to grip the feeling. And that leaves me helpless. Having seen a lot, I'd think I'd manage it. I just can't. Almost like everything broke. One final time.

Longing

Suddenly longing for something in the past. Strangely it's like a memory from some book mixed with bits of my past. Something I'd read somewhere, enjoyed immensely, seen myself in the shoes of the protagonist and lived his life. Experiencing the longing he felt, the yearning of a time lost. A time that's lost permanently. This huge shades of the city the story is set in. Something that lends distinctive shades to the feelings. Strangely it's a city I've never visited properly and am/used to be (?) heavily prejudiced about!

There's something about cities. They fascinate me. Not in terms of the fast pace or the perks of urban living. More to do with the mix of people drawn to a city, some there by accident, some by choice, each with a different agenda , crossing and contrasting each others paths and all striving towards some common goal.

At times I feel like I'm an observer standing separate from this mass movement, watching the smallest of things. The passing glance, the deepest of judgements in the most fleeting moments. And other times I'm part of the mass. Riding the highs and lows of all the emotional waves. There are times I end up yearning to be a part of this crowd. Yearning to feel strongly, passionately about someone, something. The perennial quest for reason and meaning manifesting itself? Often ending up associating people, cities to these feelings and then the emotions come flooding through.

Gaah! Such random thoughts can only be attributed to proximity of exams. Back to illusions of a salvageable situation.

No surprises...

Have a horrible feeling all my posts in this period will have a very similar tone. Have moments each and everyday when I shut out everything, darken my room and lie still in my bed to think of what is happening, trying to make sense of things. Point is I'm too tired to even stay awake for thirty seconds. At any given point in 24 hours I could lie on my bed and be off to sleep in 30 seconds!

Today the brief half minute showed me glimpses of sunnier days and happier smiles. When I lived a happier life, or atleast what now seems immensely enviable to me. When I could dream of a hundred magical possibilities. And now even they seem burnt. It's painful for me to think I can't get back those thoughts; almost seems like all the places, the people who were mine aren't anymore. They're all hijacked by my doubts. Torn away.

Its a funny state when nothing surprises you. This song just makes a WHOLE lot of sense now.


A heart that's full up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal

You look so tired and unhappy
Bring down the government
They don't, they don't speak for us
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
Silent, silent

This is my final fit, my final bellyache with

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises please

Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden

No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises please (let me out of here)

-No Surprises, Radiohead

Why do we need to feel belonged. I don't know. Isn't this what we sought an answer to today? And yet, it seems impossible to disengage from this charade. Wishing, like Simon & Garfunkel, I could say...

"I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor"

Risking the best things I've had, realizing nothing is absolute. And the one demon I hated so much maybe turn out to be good. Realizing you're WAY too different isn't good.

Another night and even though there maybe a lot left, I can't seem to bother anymore. There's one point beyond which I can't seem to go. And thats when I have to stop and sitback. I'm left with the last crystals of thoughts that seem to have faded with each passing day. Catching up with happy memories. Letting the smiles come through and the demons the past buried return. Each one trying to overpower the other. Free floating through a million thoughts, feeling overpoweringly happy and intensely pointless intermittently. Scared, haunted, happy and delirious.

incoherent

It's another Friday night in WIMWI land. Three weeks down; numerous quizzes, case studies, sleepless nights, fatigue until you collapse moments, feeling in the pits moments and coming back to lifes. And yet it's just been three weeks.

My FSI prof said I'd learn to beat the system soon. I don't know about it yet. But I guess, in the midst of it all, there are some things that keep you going. A parallel world I can escape to whenever I feel like. Where I am me. Where I can lie on my back, smell the air and look at the blue skies. Where I go everytime I switch off the lights in my room, play some soft Joan Baez, pull my chair to the neem-tree balcony and play along on my harmonica. Where I travel unkown cities and realise I'm not lost, where I find parts of me in pieces and in wholes. And everytime I find that person, everything starts making sense again. It's like finding someone you're most confortable with.

And even though the temptation to turn this fantastic magical world real is immense, I know I won't; I can't. The fear of losing its magic, its charm is much greater. I long for some amazing times the past had. Some most unique and beautiful. I'm lucky they happened. For I can derive joy out of any one such incident. Derive satisfaction enough to take me through the weeks here.

Suddenly, almost in a second, the fairytale came undone. Reality just scarred it. Horribly horribly. It was an effortless, slightest, imperceptible nudge over the edge. And it won't come back now. Nothing will bring it back. It may seem to return occasionally, but it's all a lie. Left at the bottom of the glass in the dregs of the drink that rejuvenated dreams. And like a standard disclaimer to end it with hope; here's hoping that this nightmare is just the result of a sleepless 24 hours.

monsoon

It's pouring away outside. I'm sitting in my room on the terrace catching flashes of lightning illuminate the night outside. Each flash captures a black and white snap of the trees bent over and the raindrops frozen in midair. It's almost as if there's a mountain stream running wild over my terrace. It's a stormy rainy night, the one that's the source of so many stories. And for some reason I'm too excited to sleep!!

Have been filled with this warm fuzzy feeling all evening. Am glad to discover that I can feel that way again. Lost in thoughts of happy possibilities (which I shall keep untainted from the real world, unrealized and perfect); thoughts of trips made together. Discovering a strange ancient city, discovering myself and a stranger. A world of limitless magical possibilities and fantastic adventures.

I realize that sometimes things are so much better in your head. It's so much better to preserve it that way. I'm glad that I can exit the real world and revel in this beautiful make believe place where everything is perfect. Where everything is different from so many things intolerable in reality. I can't word the feelings too well. I wish I could!

I think I absolutely LOVE the rains :)

A mixed post

For the past two days, whenever I see the word home I stop. I read it twice and think to myself what it could mean. I realize that at such a juncture I'm bludgeoned with too many such thoughts.

I've never been good at transitions. And there have been too many in my life. I was born in Bombay, moved to Pune, schooled in Calcutta, 'colleged' in Kharagpur, worked in Bombay and now am on my way to Ahmedabad for another two years a student. On one hand, the thought that after this my life will remain that of a working man for the next 35 odd years after I graduate petrifies me. On the other at times I wish there wasn't so much change as with each one of them I'm left with a huge sense of turmoil inside me.

Friends, contacts, memories and precious moments... the whole lot is lost and each new place brings forth the task of building it all over again. Somehow after so many 'moving on's every time I meet new people I always have it at the back of my mind that this too shall pass. It is a terrible affliction to have; "being bad at keeping in touch", people don't realize when they casually claim that about themselves. I guess it makes you realize, that maybe even though it maybe cumbersome. Nothing beats an email at a regular interval to people you've known.

I miss Bombay, the hostel and the freedom I had there. In bits it was the life I'd aspire to have one day. Moving out changed the equations and the people I knew are already dimming in my memory. Losing associations scares me the most since I know they are what will hold you through. Similarly, I miss Kgp; and school; and every place I've moved away from. It's the people that I've lost touch with, who at a certain point in time were the most important. This is one of those moments when you realize you need an anchor. One equation thats only made up of constants. The feeling of reassurance of someone having your back is priceless I believe.

----------------------------------------------

I was reading up old posts in my blog today. I guess the best thing is that since it's been around for 3 years now (!) there are things that age back to a forgotten time. I started out in my second year. I still remember those months working for the Tech Fest. It was frustrating, exhilarating and all new. Over that period of 6-7 months as we bonded together as a team I made newer friends who I remember whenever I think of Kgp. A fellow U2 lover, a Gangtok trip with a future great friend (who's married now!), a crazy couple who found themselves over those few months and the endless jokes that went around, the last day and the emptiness as the fest got over... a whole lot of incidents and friends in there :)

There are many days that I've captured, which now when I read come back to me. And some don't at all, even after reading them!

Another amazing thing is going through the comments. More than anything, just as much as the posts, the comments make up a few memories too. There were soo many people who've visited these pages. Some were regulars. But some were not. And I'm really curious about them. Most of their links don't route to a blog. And even if they do they've stopped blogging a long time back. I wonder where and how they are. In case one of you is reading this, hope you're doing well and good :). Three years is a looong time.

-------------------------------
This one month, like a lot of the other times I've spent in Calcutta of late, forms strange impressions of the city in me. I guess since my stay in the city has been very limited, I've been impressed upon a lot with other places to always end up comparing and seeing the differences between here and elsewhere. For one I notice that Cal. is like an island, a bubble stranded in a time zone which is static. Most things remain the same here. Ten years may go past, but the moodikhana dokan closest to your house will still look the same. Kaku would have probably aged a little more, maybe his son would have joined in the business too. But the whole strip of maggi noodles will still be hanging from the same hook in the same corner of the shop. The thing is thats where I guess a sense of belonging comes to this place. That how everyone here ends up being so comfortable and aware of whats around them. There are many more such things I have in my head. Maybe will write them out some other time.

I've just got about a week left before I'm off to Ahmedabad. A lot of people who've gone to A start an alternative blog to log in their days at A. I guess I'll just stick to this one. Though I don't see how I'd manage along with the killer schedule they have. Still I'll hope, that despite the schedule, as a few friends did point out, it'll be worth the grind.

One rambling post this has been. I'll be lucky if you're still around :)

The longest standing friend you ever had has decided to be a stranger you never met. The farthest you thought this would go has limited itself to a view. And now, as futile as it is to capture the sky through the lens, the picture will always be in your head.

mumbye

It's probably like falling out of love. The sadness that overcame me still confuses me. I'm out of Bombay. And surely one chapter is over and lost and unredeemable. The last days were spent walking the small lanes of where I lived... Veronica Road, Waroda Road, Pali Naka, Bandstand and the Fort on Buddha Purnima night; acutely aware of the smallest things that would change.

moon up in the east and sun down in the west; in between the two i'd sit and read(view from fort top)

I will miss the familiarity of this place. Somehow the quiet narrow lanes and small buildings crowding in on each other breeds a homely feeling to this neighborhood. And that too in a place like Bandra. Where you step outside the comfort of the sleepy inner lanes onto the Super Mall streets of Hill and Linking Roads. And then you walk down towards the sea passing Mount Mary and her steps. And you sit and read while the waves whisper and groan and roar as they please.

I had my own place, a comfortable existence, decent money to go by and no responsibilities at all. And now I'm going ahead and changing it all! It isn't like I realized this just now. In fact by the end of my notice period at work I decided that I had to make the most of the remaining month I had there. I did a second Goa trip to a friends place. Lived in a century old Portuguese styled house with amazing wood worked ceilings and windows. Drove to the northernmost beaches in Goa, ate a whole lot of Xacuti, drank cheap liquor and pledged to settle down there. And now I'm sitting here writing about it all, logging it in so that I don't forget all that I did.

I wish I could list out all the small things I would like my memory to hold on to. It would be incoherent and formless. Yet the intent to never forget this time would be served.

Spent my evening sitting at the Fort (again!). And every single time I sit there it's magical. Looking for solitude in a crowd, I get it there. Sitting right ahead looking down at the black rocks and the waves crashing in below, I'm flooded with emotions. Its almost like being on a trip, completely unaware of my surroundings, caught up in my own thoughts.

The sea froths white foam below and the sky with the millions of stars looks like a huge movie screen towering above me, completely engulfing my view. There's a fury with which the waves lash out at the rocks below, it's similar to the fury with which the thoughts run in my head. I feel like I'll fly off into the movie screen and become shooting star :)

I'll be leaving Bombay soon. A thought that upsets me horribly. This place's meant a lot in many many ways. It is futile to attempt to word how it's been. Will be going home for a few days and then off to IIMA for probably the most gruelling two years of my life.

Other than the initial euphoria, I've almost always been visited with the thought of how things might turn out to be afterwards. I guess I wouldn't venture into thinking that way if there wasn't such a big deal we make of such things. It kind of feels hollow when people talk about all the good things career and money wise the future holds. Then again that's one of the reasons a lot of people start walking towards getting into this place. Just hope things don't go too crazy and stay normal.

But, if anything else, there's nothing that beats the initial euphoria. If I could, I'd do it all over again to live those first few moments.

Love's too simple to complicate so much. I think I'm petrified of it. And that hurts horribly.

Sea

It's been a wierd weekend. All this while things have been pretty good. Except for a bit of roughish waters at work. And now suddenly I'm all a little downish with a lot of confusing thoughts in my head. Spent two evenings sitting for hours at the sea side. Today the sea was extremely rough. I realized, or maybe it was just a figment of my imagination, that a rough sea has a completely different character to a placid sea. And it can affect the way you feel. A placid sea calms you down. A rough sea spews anger and discontentment. But you must really lose yourself to the moment. You can't allow yourself to be pulled back by the city lying behind you.

I kept sitting looking at the sun go down and then the surging bobbing waters hiding unbroken waves, silvery under the moonlight heading ferociously to the rocks. I've had funny feelings run in my body sitting here on the edge of the Fort looking at the rocks below. The day I'd written my CAT and I came here to sit, I felt I could absolutely do anything in the world. I suddenly felt like I could fly off into the sea, walk over anything in the way, I just felt it... for a brief few seconds. Today I felt that I could with one swipe of my hand erase the whole of the sealink and the pretty Worli skyline beyond it from my view. Only to have the sea and the rocks in my view.

Life in general...

I’m very close to quitting my job. No, it’s not supposed to sound that bad. I’m actually quitting to go back to studying; back to college. These days half the time at work I’m thinking of a hundred different things. At times I wonder that the year that was welcomed on the beach of Anjuna under a fire cracker lit sky has been really good to me. Then again I rush off to do weird rituals in my head to ward off the evil eye. I’m not superstitious, but somethings just rub off onto you.

Recently visited Delhi, twice in fact. First time for an interview and the second time to get myself registered. Rarely have I done two trips so close to each other for one day to another city. Kind of feels good to fly in the morning and get back at night, almost like a business trip thing. Sadly though the money went out of my pocket.

I mostly recall the flights, especially on the last trip. Taking off from Santa Cruz airport over the edge of the island of Bombay the plane turned northward over the Arabian Sea and then headed back to the mainland. The view of the island, with the hills and misty clouds surrounding it was magically serene. As we ascended and made it through the cloud cover the world above was a different place. Here in the kingdom of the sun, it was blindingly bright. And the sun like an emperor ruthlessly shone on everything, piercing every nook and corner, every white cloud valley and hill. Night was equally magical. As the plane prepared to land, I looked out of the window to see an island of neon lights and moving cars and looking at the sky I saw silver stars glittering as if a black and white reflection of the land below separated by a deep black chasm of space.

On a different note; today is a Sunday. Ever since I’ve been working, Sunday’s have become infinitely precious. I consider them to be my days when I redeem whatever bit of life I miss out on the other 6 days of work. I have a particular thing called a redeeming ritual which basically includes waking up late, ordering pizza and coke for lunch and then watching some Scrubs. Afternoon siesta, a walk to Bandstand in the evening and a few moments to myself atop Bandra Fort looking out at the Arabian Sea; this is my perfect Sunday. It’s the only way to assure myself that all is not lost. It gives me a sense of control and satisfaction. Call it weird, but I need it. Of course there are deviations from this and occasionally Sunday’s are spent visiting the city. The best time to do so, according to me, as on weekdays the city is a graphic reminder of the rat race: rivers of humanity pouring out of Churchgate and VT stations in the morning and reversing its flow in the evenings. Six full days pass as the statues and buildings in this stunningly beautiful place stand mute and observant, and suddenly somehow on a Sunday the stunning Art Deco architecture, the tasteful Victorian buildings all come to life. Discovering Mumbai and the story of its many cultures: the Bene Israel, the Baghdadis, the quaint Irani cafes at road junctions and Parsi Agiarys is another complete post in itself.

And finally a little philosophical self note :)

Theres nothing more beautiful than something magical pursued half way and being left with the thoughts of what could have been. Safe in the rocky hills away from the wild windy raging shores of the sea.

The problem with blogging infrequently is huge posts. So many things to say. Hopefully, cause all one has is hope. I will continue.

the mid 20's crisis

A big city weekend. Dinner and movie with friends on Saturday night. Late late wake up on Sunday. A visit to the International Boat Show and a walk on the marina followed by Sweeney Todd at Sterling. And an end to the day with a possible dinner at the Norweigian Seafood Festival at IHM Dadar.

I'd say my life is "hep"-pining, but there are times when I have this massive urge to sit at home through the entire weekend (which for me begins from Sat evenings only since I work 6 day weeks). I need to have this feeling of lazying around lying in my room, watch a movie, order a pizza for lunch and not have to move one bit just so that I feel like I have control over my life as opposed to the other 6 days when I can' t do as I wish.

College was so less complicated. Its one of the reasons I want to go back to college and do a masters. This was aptly described by a favourite cousin as the Mid-20's crisis. And I've met many fellow sufferers.

I got my IIMK interview in 7 hours and IIMA on Monday… I don’t know why I’m here at this hour. Filling up my form I remembered that I had/have a blog. Pages full of updates pending… its been ages since I wrote but I still feel I’ll fill in the gaps until now. Optimism? That’s a good thing to start tomorrows day with. Bye for now.