25 Aug 2016

The listeners

She looked at the empty couch before her. The emptiness was not something she was fond of. What she was fond of was stories. 
Her school mates had thought that she would grow up to become an author. But her college friends knew better. They had been confident that she would become a psychotherapist. 
At college, her favorite spot had been an old, weathered stone bench that lay at the farthest corner of her hostel garden. Every evening, she would walk to the bench with a steaming cup of cardamom tea and a 5 rupee packet of masala peanuts. She loved kissing her tea cup, acknowledging the return of birds to their shelters. She also loved the occasional company of her friends who sat beside her and narrated their personal issues as the sunlight slowly ebbed away. Some of them asked her for her suggestions. Some were content just opening up. "Thank you so much for listening patiently" they would all say before taking leave, for which she would respond with a warm smile. A smile very similar to the one that would spread across her face when she would gently say, "Tell me what's bothering you!" to her friends to help them open up. 
All her college friends knew very well this cardamom tea, masala peanuts, corner stone bench routine of hers. But very few knew about her another routine. One where, after her dinner, she slowly walked to the small Durga temple just outside her college and sat down before the deity to share her personal issues. But even with Durga, she never failed to say with a smile, "Tell me what's bothering you!". She knew that Durga also needed a companion to share her personal issues. Durga, after all, faced a very similar problem like her's. Every one was willing to open up his/her sorrows to Durga but no one really cared if Durga wanted to share her feelings. A sad fate shared by Gods and constantly smiling humans.

She looked at the empty couch before her. The emptiness was not something she was fond of. 
She locked the doors of her clinic and started walking towards the Ganesh temple that lay at the end of the street. After she entered the temple, she walked to the spot where lamps had been lit with less oil and more hope. She liked standing in their warmth. The lamps together shone the light of human faith. She then walked towards the deity and sat before him. 
In a matter of seconds, Ganesh excitedly started. "How long do I have to wait for you? Since morning, I had been wanting to tell you about this funny request a 35 year old woman came up with." Ganesh could not control his laughter. 
She knew how playful and jovial Ganesh was and readied herself for his story. Ganesh started narrating the funny request and as he was halfway through it, they were interrupted by a priest. 
"I see you visiting this temple every night and whenever you leave the temple, there is always a wide smile on your face. I have not seen it that often in other devotees. At times, I wonder if you are a special child to the Lord. Does he, by any chance, talk to you and answer your prayers specially?", the priest asked her mockingly. She thought for sometime and slowly nodded her head. "But what do you do worthier than the others?", he asked her, puzzled.
"I simply listen", she replied, looking at the smiling Ganesh. 

17 Aug 2016

Notes & thoughts from a short trip

  • Being caged
Was so excited during the journey to Mysore. A new experience, of course. Also, an additional joy in anticipating the visit to the zoo. Had watched the wild animals at close range when I was 2-3 years old. 
But something unexpected happened at the zoo. I felt no joy as I passed from cage to cage. Only pain lingered. In one cage, saw a peacock dancing in all its glory. Couldn't bring about myself to watch the beauty. How could I? The beauty was trapped inside a cage.
Made me realize something - Better to put ourselves inside cages and watch the animals roaming around in the open (like in safari parks) rather than the opposite.
Brother also made a great statement - "If you think about it, it actually seems funny - People trapped inside their own cages five days a week rushing out to enjoy caged animals on the weekends". 
Personally knew the cages he was referring to too well to refuse.


Captured only a few photos. But one, where the 'capture' button was clicked accidentally before adjusting the focus turned out to sum up my feeling at the zoo.
  • Happiness on screen
Had always thought that people flocked to zoos because they never got enough of animals on the television. But noticed something puzzling at the zoo.
Most people were content looking at the fascinating animals from behind a mobile phone screen. 
What should be seen and recorded by the human eye first was happily gifted to the mobile phone cameras. 
Why has the want to record everything on memory cards grown so uncontrollably over the want to record details on memory?
  • Asking for help
People are always ready to help - A beautiful belief reinforced.
Phone kept running out of charge and there was no power bank. But small shops in the bus termini and small hotels were always ready to help. 
Also found that google maps was so boring in comparison to the localites. 
When asked for directions, the routes and transport modes were explained in a couple of minutes followed by detailed accounts of their lifestyles and travel habits.
Realized people will never get tired of talking about themselves. 
Sort of a happy realization for my blog!
  • Chuck civilization
Not a care about proper restrooms. Not a care about change of clothes. Not a care about proper shelter. Not a care about time. 
How long had I been wanting to show the middle finger to civilization?!
Know that this is just a tame beginning. But a morning walk to a domestic dog is always priceless.
  • The journey always matters
Visited 4 tourist destinations during our trip. But the destinations have already half faded from memory.
What is rooted strongly in the brain is the wait in the bus terminus for a bus that never arrived, the 5 kilometer walk to a temple simply because the smell of the roads was different, the scary ride in a bus as it twisted and turned at great speed on top of a hill, all the meaningless conversations that led to nowhere and yet had a special part in the journey.
Not necessary that only painstaking, backbreaking 50 day bicycle journeys and trips into unexplored wilderness should transform lives. 
Even a 2 day trip with a great companion has its own share of revelations. 

12 Aug 2016

What is my reality?

My purple moon rises every morning
And my green sun shines through the night
My birds and animals engage me in intelligent conversations
My fellow humans just chirp and purr
The roads that I walk on are soft
The rains that drench me are hot
How will I express these truths?
How will I make anyone believe
That this is not my poetry but my reality?

I read that the sun is yellow and the moon is white
I read that humans can talk while animals cannot
So appalled am I
I try hard to see a yellow sun but I fail
I beg my flowers to reveal their colors but they remain black
I do not fully understand my reality...
Is it wrong that my sun shines at night?
Is it a crime that my horses speak?
Isn't my reality just mine?!
Why does the world have a say in individual reality?

Have we then committed a crime
Institutionalizing the people who enjoy their own realities
Why does the world have a say in individual reality?
I will live inside a camel's hump
I will travel through the power transmission lines
Isn't my reality just mine?!
If you declare my reality fake, then I demand
What of the people whose realities encompass Gods?
What of the people whose realities encompass time?
If their realities are true, then more so is mine
It is as poignant and beautiful as the absolute reality.

8 Aug 2016

Tragicomedies of my life

Sad memories embrace me more often than the happy ones
Maybe they are like the mothers of teenagers
Struggling for affection and attention
Maybe they are like the schoolteachers
Secretly wishing that they are remembered 
For all the life lessons taught...

Sad memories embrace me more often than the happy ones
And when they do, I reciprocate
Not like a nervous bride on her wedding night
But as a magnanimous father of twins
Arms extended to accommodate two in the place of one..
Every sad memory is the first child out of the womb
One is thankful that he has arrived but the wait is not over
The memory of narrating the sad incident to close friends
Follows slowly, making the heart heavy before his appearance
Causing a relieved smile after he joins his brother...

To my close friends, everything is fun and frolic
The tragedies of my life more so
My friends do not demean the incidents
They just refuse to give the events any more respect than they actually deserve
Most of my sad stories have been narrated
To result in unending laughter
I do not know if the approach is right or wrong
And I cannot care less
Right and wrong - What are they if not mere perspectives?
What helps one live is right
What helps one suffocate is wrong
The tragicomedies of my life,
In that sense, are righter than most shlokas and formulae...