“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”
-St. Augustine
For what remains is love ..
its a disease. where you analyze everything. these words that i type – the thoughts that cross my mind – the words that i hear – its like i can’t stop thinking. can’t stop thinking at all. there is silence in one thought. but that is just a thought. but that again is a thought.
an ant is nearing me. it has these weird looking legs. squatting like it partially wants to sit but just has to go on – for some reason. i throw it far. away from me.
there is this bird that chirps. i can hear it through the window. i just told mom how much i love this window which filters the last rays of the sun onto my bed and on my face. birds don’t sing, you know that. they chirp. i think they are pretty disillusioned. mostly because, ideally, they should sing. but actually they don’t. it is still chirping.
i practise staying thirsty. it is a relief in a way. its the time when you know you can get something – but you just don’t feel like. and its fine. because you know it is always in your reach. i wonder if i could reverse it. how would it be not to get something you like. at times the pain is sustained and self-inflicted.
you hear these noises. people celebrating some cause. yes, this show. they say, it celebrates life. really? will they involve me – completely. i pinch myself …. i can not feel their pain. oh, yes i can hear them. i just can not feel them. what- they are not in pain? oh- i am sorry…no they are not in pain. i might be.
they said they needed me. i did not go to their rescue. i shrugged it off. i had better things to do. there were better things, i am sure. for the greater good – of me. the whole day passed – i just could not find it. they hoped. i forgot.
when i reached the forest – it was lush green. a beauty if you can imagine. it was one of the hidden treasures of the world – unheard of – that forest that i went to. there was a bumpy road that was lead by the landscape of the trees and the hidden sun. and when i left a lot many days later – it was burning. the wind howled its indifference. the smoke of the shredded leaves left behind, as i made my way through that imprisonment. it captured a lot.
there is a certain amount of irreverence that is setting in. towards the world. i don’t see it as i saw it few years back. it is a big question to me. on the other side of the bank – i stand – at a safe distance from the rest of the world. i wonder if i can shout and swear at them, i wonder if i just don’t mind them standing there, i wonder if i can just shrug off and whistle my way ahead, or if i can just take a step into this cold water and maybe swim a little distance.
oh no, wait, i can’t do that – that ant’s come along with me all this way, and i need to be a little better swimmer to save both of us.
farfara way
Today I need a little courage. Its not for anything big or mighty. Its the courage for tiny little things in life.
In a far far away land, away from everyone I love, its not that tough to exist, as one might imagine. Its tougher to live so near to yourself and yet be far far away from the realization of ‘you’ .
P.S: At times my senses enjoy the weird mindless humor- don’t mind 
Life in 26 letters
Life in 26 letters. Its strange how that can be done. To be truthful, it could not be. For Alia, life was much more. More than that could capture the delight of these 26 fellows or the shame on each one of them. If it could be, it would have been, at best, a second to second story. The stories which develop from one second to the other…. not to be anticipated, not seen through.. just to be lived from one moment to the other.
Independence brings a lot of responsibilities. At times Alia would shudder at the thought. It was increasingly getting difficult for her to keep all the strings of past, present and future woven together. She could see them melt away. She hoped otherwise.
Bidding him goodbye at the airport that evening, she felt a strange sense of blankness. She was full of emotions a second before, and in the next , she felt nothing….. Zilch, Nil, Nothing.As if the time they were together, was meant t0 be – in some distant land of destiny – it was just an execution of what was written. Or as if, life in 26 letters could not explain itself to her. The tapestry of the random events was so incoherent that she could barely put them together. But she wished so hard, that at the end of it all, there would be some meaning to it.
About a couple of years back, someone had told her, that sitting at the banks is not the way to explore the waters of life. She had dived deep and wide. She came out experienced, but not wiser. Wisdom she concluded was a tricky thing. You can only get more, once you make yourself believe, you don’t have enough. But the deeper seas also brought to her oysters of mystery – lovely, little, unassuming oysters – questioning each of her belief and thought. Why was she wandering in these deep waters? Far away from the shore… What was she looking for? Was she getting herself to the middle of nowhere – where the northern stream almost died and the sea stood still ? Could she carry the pearls back home? Could she leave the unassuming questions unanswered?
She is still waiting for her own answers. Hopefully, outside these restrictions, she gets them.
At times, independence is outrageous even to oneself.
‘Arbeit macht frei’
I need to write. Its an urgency. But I just cant. I need to blabber out things. I need to tell myself that I can express myself. But I just cant. I need to figure out things, and I know there is nothing in the world that does it for me other than writing. A friend asked me, ‘ are you drunk?’
Like hell ! i am intoxicated and disillusioned. Will my people help me? No, they can’t. Will love help? It must have died out on its attempts to revive me. Will work help me? I hope it does.
This is suicidal. Knowing that I know that ‘it’ and ‘this’ in particular can never set me free – Never.
I need to write !
Stream of life
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment
– by Rabindranath Tagore
*********
This is a must watch… .. a wonderful adaptation of the poem …
“…the sea’s only gifts are harsh blows and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong. Now, I don’t know much about the sea, but I do know that that’s the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing blind, deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your own hands and your own head…”
— Bear Meat by Primo Levi
Tagged !
The tagger – Ish
The rules -
1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.
As you shall witness, I’ll obey only some of the rules that are written. It has almost become a habit now. 
1. I absolutely have to have a book or my laptop playing, for me to sleep, at times when I have to sleep. At times other than when I am trying to sleep, sleep comes naturally to me ;)
2. I am extremely allergic to things that as a kid I adored totally – including milk which I used to drink atleast once every 3-4 hours, almost throughout my childhood. Yes, I understand, allergies are bound to be idiosyncratic.
3. I hate texting. It takes me a good 5-10 minutes to compose a message. I would anytime prefer hearing a voice. Lately, however, I have been using a lot of it.
4. I am totally unlucky for myself. I’ll never bet on my own lottery ticket. Better still, I’ll never buy one
5. Its really pathetic to hear about a funny situation/story/experience from me. I am almost never able to complete the story and one has to fill in the blanks from whatever can be gathered from between the suppressed words in the streams of laughter. 
6. I have a truly selective memory. I’ll remember things that I want to and those for which I don’t bother much, there is no vacancy in my over-occupied brain.
Most of the bloggers that I follow have already been tagged. The world sure is shrinking.
P.S : On a different note, Gulzar has bagged Oscar nomination for Achievement in original Song category for ‘Jai ho ‘ . I hope he wins.
Cheers !
Making a noise
Critically speaking, Indian politics has tarnished to the point that a cop who gives up his life in an encounter has to give proof for his martyrdom. That political mileage from any and every issue is sought – whether that be Raj Thakre cashing on the Jet Airways sacked out employees or Mamta Banerjee guarding Singur from all possible winds of industrial change. The left and the right are completely on the verge of their extremes. I am amazed to read – The Shape of the Beast- conversations with Arundhati Roy- at how a lop-sided view can be taken on any and every subject. How predictably people are positioned. How invariably the anti-Modi campaign is a mark of the intellectual strata. Reminded of his victory, it is by default marked as the black day of democracy. I wish they could cut a slack. If only they could look at other developments in the state. I am amazed at our myopic vision as at our amnesia. For the past few days the nuclear deal has completely taken a back seat, with the Government still liable to answer some hanging questions.
My concerns for Indian politics, arise at the excessive emotional quotient we attach to the ‘sensitive’ issue of religion. No party in its right mind leaves this highly powered cheque. The Central Government has ridiculed the issue of quota to an extent that the faculty at iit would have reserved seats. Recently, I read in a news article that the report from the ministry omits the seemingly irrelevant point that the directors of all the IITs were against the reservation in faculty seats. A genuine round of applause !
I, as an individual and a citizen of this country, would have surely given up my sentiments attached to my religion, if I were sure that the state would protect my belief – that i would not be threatened based on what I am. We need to give these words a thought. Because this stands true as much for the majority as much it does for the minority.
But I am not sure of it. I am not sure if the state is doing enough to impart justice. So however weak I may be, I shall stand for myself. Hence the anarchy sets in. These very sentiments are cashed by the political parties. Politics makes fools out of us. And we are idiots enough to marry the happy dream of democracy and enter the wedlock of mutual hatred and distrust. To top it all we flaunt the happy teeth. If instead of distrust, the people, the media, the politicians sow trust and harmony , the society would not be divided as it is. Demographics have to be considered. The balance of power in times of democracy, is not weighed by artillery, but by numbers. A politician is shrewd enough to understand that. As people we have the right, the power and the duty to open our blinded eyes – to understand the games that are played – to read between the lines that are read by the news readers and to give trust a chance.
However outrageous she might be, Arundhati Roy makes a point when she says that ” .. we have to rescue democracy by being troublesome, by asking questions, by making a noise. That’s what you have to do to retain your freedom. ..”
I just hope that the voices are not drowned in the noise.
may contain spoilers…
I am bad at harsh criticism. You need to keep a decoder to understand my criticism of things and people. I do that – but in a subtle manner. Its ironic to an extent and hypocrisy to another, on my part – because i respect people who are clear and blatant in what they have to speak. And i despise people like me. Its interesting to judge yourself in such times. Its almost like you are another person and you stand near yourself and smile/frown/abuse/wink at yourself and tell yourself what you ‘should have’ done. Does not happen. In the recent past I have found that this habit of mine has embarrassed me often in front of myself. To redeem myself from such mockery – i am doing this exercise of criticism.
So the story is about a person who wasted a very important time of my small-si life. I hate that person for it ( Please notice, I am getting better at criticising:) ). I have spent my past few days thinking of this person and what he had to offer and today morning he shattered all my hopes and dreams. What a shame ! I abhor you.
The important day was the morning of a ‘Saturday’ (and you know how important a Saturday can be, specially until the day ends, and very specially if it registers no achievement to its credit) when three very ill-equipped friends putting aside all set-backs of failed transactions at atms, and dealings with auto-wallas speed towards a decent seating somewhere in the middle rows of 3 Cs. the man is Aziz Mirza ( o did you think i was about to start a bitching platform! tch..tch… dirty minds .. ) and the story, my dear, is yes ‘kismat konnection’ !
first things first – why Canada ??????? there is no use of the location on the screen. there is no use of the location in the story. it is illogical to have all Indians in Canada, right from the receptionist to the people in any party, to the industrialist, to the inmates of the community center. WHAT WAS THAT! Canada hijacked by Indians….and then put to no use !!!!
first things first(2nd ; ) ) – why Vidya Balan ????????? I don’t have anything against her personally. I loved her role in Parinita. I thought she was a mature actor UNTILL now. What’s with the faces that a heroine makes on screen. You DON’T have to be seductive every second with the hero on-screen. It feels as if she is working in short supply of air. Breathe …Goddammit !!!! I don’t have anything to add to it except that in the last scene when she says, ‘ I am proud of you’ to our hero – it feels a mom is being so caring. I handled the first shock . But I almost fell off my chair when she reiterates it in a bournvita/ horlics like ad ‘no beta, i am really proud of you ‘!!! Stop it, for God sake !
Juhi Chawala!!!! why why why why ? i was confused at your entry ! you had me think for a split second if the hero had to enter a brothel for changing his kismat….and the time when you appear-disappear on the seemingly flat tv screen ( which btw was ridiculous to have in an unemployed hero’s house !)….why why why ? i am sure you must have had better creative ideas than this entry.
don’t even get me started on the story. it was a hotch-potch of everything and yet nothing. as soon as it had to get emotional – it got over-dramatic and suddenly funny. what somebody might have called anti-climactic a disaster with a capital D.
If only the songs could save a movie !! The songs were actually the only saviour of this broken-ship. Shahid looked cool in the promos which showed us mostly the songs – Deception Point … We hung around until the end so that we could somehow cash our money back with the entertainment of the songs and dance sequences. ‘Bakhuda’ would be en-queued in my playlist for sometime now.
Anyways, I wonder if Shahid could get anywhere near ‘good’ or ‘original’ at his acting skills after having entered his second innings in Bollywood. I just hope he does. Like Saif who is just getting better with his age.
phewww!!! so you see…its easy ….anybody can criticise. I CAN find faults !!!!
D, so i did find something bad and called it that !!!
Well who am I kidding ! ‘Any’ one can criticise Bollywood. I’ll move to the next stage of my critics-exercise. Wait and watch ! you might be up-next .. ^ ^
