unposted

Oh ...

if only we could unask a question ...
if only we could unlive a life ...

Does the wind really blow?
Or does it suck at your flesh as it brushes past your cheeks?

Words are not enough.
They never are.
For things new and for things old.

To think of things that do not exist you need words that do not exist either.
But then you create ... the thought ... and the words ... the language ... to describe what you create.
But do you create it?
Can you create something that cannot exist?
You can't.
If you can't create something that cannot exist, then anything that you create can be created only because the possibility of its creation exists ...
so do you really create anything at all?
Or does everything already exist?
If so, where does everything exist?
Is there a place where everything has a place ... before it exists ... and after it is destroyed?
Or did this place just get created because I thought of it?
Do I know the answers?
If I think I do, does that change the answers?
Does it change the question?
The questions ... do they exist before I ask them?
Can I ask a question that cannot be asked?

Maybe I should unpost this post :)

100th

A century ... nothing remarkable really ... this isn't even a "blog of note".

I don't generally post twice on a day ... in fact, I don't think I have done that even once in the past 2 years since I started. So ... is it because I have more time in my hands today or is it to complete the century? Nobody wants to do a Sachin Tendulkar and miss century after reaching the nineties!

Neither actually. Was reading some stuff when I realized that one of our VPs had made it to Crain's 40 under 40 list. He is just 32.

I don't see myself becoming the VP of my company in the next 2 years. In fact, I am not sure that I'll make it till 40 either.

So ... what is wrong? I - in my arrogance perhaps - believe that I have it in me to make a mark ... to do something in this world that is worth it ... be successful. Why hasn't it happened yet then? What am I doing wrong?

To quote from JC, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

Need to find this fault in me ... and rectify it fast ... time is running out!!!

not writing

Started going to the gym some a couple of weeks ago. This isn't the first time. Over the years, I have tried several times but eventually, the enthusiasm petered down every time. This time, I hope it lasts me my life time.

Finally got sick and tired of being sick and tired. The air quality here in Bangalore has been deteriorating over the years. The first couple of years at work, I didn't have to take a single day off for not feeling well. This year on the other hand has been particularly bad... since August, I have had to take off at least 3 times!!!

So, after being on medication for a while, decided to stop popping pills and try the gym again. Feeling good ... more of a mental thing :) ... couldn't sleep much last night since every joint in the body was paining. Also trying to get a little regular with everyday things such as sleeping and waking up ... and trying to sleep 8 hours a day till things get better ... already I can feel the improvement in that area ... I think in another couple of weeks I can again cut back a couple of hours ... 6 hours should be fine.

Haven't been reading much either of late ... things were rather hectic I guess. The unabridged version of Moby Dick that I had started reading again a couple of months ago is still stuck half way. The Gibran I'd lent out hasn't come back .. need to get that too ... picked up "The Tao of Physics" again. I really like that book ... sometimes.

The magic that some authors are able to bring forth in their books is that you can read the same book umpteen number of times and never get tired of it. The reason being that your interpretation of the contents depends a great deal on the state of your mind. Hence, depending on your frame of mind, each time you read the book, you realize something new ... or different from whatever you saw the last time.

When I come across a book like that, I like to buy it.
Then - though I don't do this very often myself - you can scribble notes as you read the book on the book itself ... and make sure that you date the notes. The next time you read, you can do the same again ... in that way, you get to see how your interpretation of the book changes with time. It is a really interesting way of realizing how our perceptions change with time. How, at times we are more mature ... and at times we are less. How, our situation at a particular time colors everything we see ... even though we don't realize it at the time.

I wish I could write something like that.
Something that isn't just nice to read ... but holds up a mirror to the reader. A reflection of what is in your eyes rather than mine ... a reflection of your thoughts ... a reflection of your feelings ... of your passions ... your beliefs ... your dreams ... your desires ... a reflection that shows everything that is not there to be seen in a mirror ... and a reflection that captures time and timelessness ... that in its ripples remembers the you that were, the you that you are and the you that will be ...

Now you know why I'll never be an author ...

no readers

Not too many readers of late for my blog ... or maybe people are reading and not commenting.
Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that my posts have become rather sporadic too.
In fact, just to equal the number of posts that I wrote last year, I'll have to be pretty regular for whatever is left of this year.

Quite amazing really how fast the years fly by. I don't know whether this is true for others but I somehow feel that as a kid - right up to 10th standard - a year would stretch for ever. I'd get tired of being in the same class for what seemed like an eternity ... reading the same text books ... giving the same tests ... getting bored out of my bones .... in general.

From about the time I reached 11th, time has started flowing faster. The first sign of this was that around this time, for the first time I was unable to fit in everything that I wanted to do in 24 hours. This is about when I started cutting down on sleep in order to have more time for other stuff ... sometimes as less than 4 hours a day ... till I'd eventually start feeling feverish and catch up on sleep... perhaps about once a week. I couldn't imagine how anyone could possible sleep 8 hours in a day ... because that meant sleeping away one-third of a life that is way too short to begin with ... "we are like butterflies that flutter for a day and think it is eternity" to quote carl segan ...

Somehow, time never did slow down after that. All through engineering, the same problem remained. One new year eve hangover seemed to merge into the next in too brief a time. I thought then that perhaps this was because a semester was less boring than a full year ... though nothing really changed, perhaps it was the illusion of progress ... and having to study for 2 sets of exams in a year .. not to mention 2 set of holidays and "common-offs" that made the time fly by.

But here I am now, working ... at the same job many years at a time ... sleeping 8 hours again (much to my horror to make up for the allergies and stuff) ... no exams ... no holidays ... just work ... and yet ... time refuses to slow down. It is hurtling by at such a high speed that I am not even aware of the passing ... except for the attrition at the hairline thanks to the friction ...

So it is that time of the year again ... when you look back ... awe struck that another year has gone by ... and wonder ...

Imagine

Imagine silence. Imagine stillness. Imagine peace.

A silence where every sound feels like a ripple on a dark subterranean pond ... like the legs of a water spider ... bending the surface of the water but not quite breaking it ...

A stillness where every movement feels like a dance ... like the motion of the sea in some long forgotten cove on a deserted island ... as it gently reaches out to caress the land ... and tremulous retraces immediately ... noiseless...

A peace where every thought is like a wisp of cloud ... floating across a clear blue sky ... as you watch ... lying on your back on the grass ... bathed in warm sunshine ... following it with your eyes as it disappears into thin air ... or ... over the horizon...

Imagine everything beautiful. Imagine everything perfect.

Imagine ....

Going to hollywood!!!

Bloody boring posts!!!

I have deleted 3 drafts since morning. I want to write ... and yet I cant!!!
Writer's block!

Which would be fine if I were a writer. But I am not.
I am a blogger ... so is this a blogger's block?
Or since I type in my posts, is this a typist's block?
Or, considering the fact that I churn out posts, perhaps this is a poster's block?

Maybe, I am just happen to be in some sort of karmic sync with the writers in the US that went on a much publicised strike bringing some shows off the air.

Perhaps this is my chance to make it big? In a world where all the work from the first world is getting outsourced to the third, perhaps I can take this strike as an opportunity to showcase my talents ... and prove that we have what it takes to take on the responsibility ... if that is what it takes to churn out year after year and season after season of soap to keep a popcorn eating gigmanity glued by their butts to their coaches ...

Yeah ... and at half the cost!!!

Perhaps I can pull of a coup and get to write the next season of "sex and the city" ... give it a third world context perhaps and name it "shacks and the shitty" or something equally full of subtle humor ... and meaning?

Perhaps I could write Jay Leno's show - they were worried that it'd go off the air since he generally spoofs current affairs ... Now that was news ... Jay Leno doesn't crack his own jokes?
Here in India, someone plants a coconut tree ... some poor bugger risks life and limb to climb up the infernal thing and bring down the darn coconut ... someone sells it ... someone else buys it ... and someone eventually cracks it some place ... generally on the floor of some temple. So, the idea that someone doesn't crack their own jokes is not such an alien concept after all ... we don't crack our own nuts either (pardon the pun) ... so this is a viable option too!

Darn .. what else? Hollywood movies? Who knows?
I don't think I am willing to give up on that either as mission impossible!
So, maybe this is it ... maybe this is my last post ...

Hollywood ... here I come!!!
(Spider man had better be prepared to climb some coconut trees in his next sequel to a sequel to a sequel)

Autumn

Autumn is finally here ... again.
(The first time I declared that to be the case was towards the end of July if I remember right)

I felt it this morning as I woke up - despite the sneezing. Saw it - as I opened the door and stepped out - in the clear blue skies and the sunlight glancing off the tallest trees. And I smelt it in the air. I enjoyed the nip in the air even as I devoured it by the lungful. Felt good. Even in the car, stuck in the traffic jam on the way to office, I actually had the time to sit back, relax and watch the lake ...



Maybe today was just another day. It is just that for me, since childhood, autumn has always been so special that I cannot stop this feeling of exhilaration from taking me over completely. Autumn as a kid meant the Durga Pooja holidays ... 10 days or more ... lots of gifts and Diwali not too far away. It also meant exams ... but that was a trivial concern. What really mattered were the 3 months of winter holidays.

There was the excitement of packing up and going off to be with Dad for the holidays. No studies!

Sometimes, it would not be possible to visit Dad. But that meant that we'd spend the holidays in the pine woods behind our colony - exploring. The pine needles would fall in a thick slippery carpet between the trees. We'd get rusty pieces of tin and use them to "ski" on the slopes. Inevitably, we'd eventually get cut or nicked by the tin sooner or later ... and then there would be the long walk up the hill to my uncles house to get the dreaded anti-tetanus shot.

A million other memories come to mind. I remember sitting out in the yard, back to the sun, eating oranges. Just that doing nothing else. Eating oranges. We'd use the "magnifying glass" to burn patterns into the wooden veranda railings. Hours of sunshine gave us a lot of time to get creative.

Playing cricket, badminton and other games - what made that so special was the fact that we kids actually cleared out a field by ourselves. We used it for a winter or two before someone came and built a house on it.

We didn't watch a whole lot of movies or TV. There wasn't any fast food to be had - unless you count bulls eyes (hard orange sweets). There was just us ... my brother, me, our small gang of friends, mom, dad, grandparents, my uncle aunt and cousin ... there were Enid Blytons (strictly for me - I was the book worm) ...

And that was about all.
And, that was about enough too ...
for then - and today I realize - for the life time to come.

finally, a prayer

Not writing as often as I used to or as often as I want to. Probably, by the end of this year I'll have churned out a lot less than what I did the previous year. Which is fine perhaps since I am not in the publishing business ... but at the same time, doesn't quite feel right.

Today, I was just browsing and reading some of the blogs that I read when I went on to some newer blogs ... and was touched ... enough to actually consider writing something myself.

Having said that, I am still not sure what I really intend to write. The thing uppermost in my mind as I write this is my recent engagement. And yet, I am somehow not sure that I can share much about it.

It is funny really - like some sort of a curse out of Mahabharata perhaps - though I am generally able to express myself reasonably well both in writing and in speech, it is at times when I most need to express myself that these skills fail me. I have not been able to quite fathom this out yet. At times, I believe that this is me just being a man - unable to connect to what I really feel. That just does not seem to be likely enough. I don't know.

There isn't much point in agonising over that any further. The gist of the matter being that I am engaged and though it is on my mind, I refuse to write about it.

So .. what next?
Today is Diwali. No. I think today is Naraka Chaturdashi, tomorrow is Kali Pooja and the day after is Diwali. But I am not a pundit and do I cannot really verify this gut feeling. What matters is that we are currently celebrating the festival of lights here in India.

It is pretty late in the night but I can still hear the occasional fire cracker going off in the distance. The air outside is pretty thick with smoke ... stale ... sinking ... drifting. Pungent enough to drive the mosquitoes into the house though - which is why I have closed the window and the door.

Inside, I sit at my desk, hunched over my laptop. The ceiling fan turns overhead ... not really noisily ... but not quietly either. It is quiet enough for me to hear dad in the adjacent room when he sometimes mutters loudly in his sleep. I have the table lamp on my study desk pointed up towards the ceiling. The diffused light makes the room look very warm. The shadow of the Japanese lantern moves in rhythm with the fan as the lantern itself gently sways underneath.

Peace and quiet. The dogs are all quiet tonight - scared by the sounds of crackers going off all evening I suppose. No cars driving on the lane in front of my house either - possibly most of the offices closed early and no late drops from office.

Shipra is eating a traditional Bengali dish at a Diwali party somewhere ... she called a while ago.

It is at times like this that I can really appreciate all that I have.
One evening like this makes everything worthwhile.

Thank you for this moment God. And thank you for giving me the time and the ability to appreciate it...