White board syndrome

16th October, 2014.

I have a white board in my room. White magnetic board, kind of the one that is used in coaching classes, with some broken magnets I acquired from toy motors and speakers. The off white smooth surface has been there for me for years, keeping up with the whims and fancies I put it through without any complain (well it is an inanimate object so it won’t even make a sound if I put it on fire but…).

It’s after months that I cleaned my board, the unnecessary bits of papers, information that I jotted down in black bold marker ink on it, ideas and notes to self, everything. It was crowded and I needed a new space to put up new ideas, new information and stuff like that. Dusting sometimes helps you to understand things in their own way. I understood nay realized something last night. Funny how you intend to read something and only then your mind takes a walk, wanders off to unravel the mysteries of universe.

The pale light of my table lamp was illuminating my otherwise dark room as I was flipping through the pages of Hamlet, then To kill a mocking bird and finally through Modern India – 1857 to 1947 absent mindedly (yes you need to know that! I am showing off!), when I noticed the blank white board on the wall (mind you, I say noticed because I really didn’t noticed the surface for a long time), and it got me thinking, don’t we all have a white board with us? Hanging somewhere inside, always there yet unnoticed?  We see things, hear and feel things and the most relevant ones gets to be put up on the board for a long time, regardless of its any apparent use. Sometimes it just is a song which we don’t know but we hum absently, some words we read somewhere on the road and it happens to be at our disposal without any notice yet at the appropriate time of its need. Sometimes it is a feeling we get and it maybe hurtful or joyful or an amalgamation of both!

And there always comes a time when we just want to wipe off everything clean off the board, not even a slight stain of such ink remains. I’m not saying that we want to be some heartless bastard with issues, sometimes it just needs a new, clean surface to think feel and jot down things again! Indeed it makes us vulnerable, any clean and clear surface is vulnerable, bound to be stained with some ink sooner or later, but then, such vulnerability is worth. It is better to be stained than just being a blank board with nothing but years of dust. Sure you do need the occasional cleaning and you do need to throw out the unwanted bits, the things we don’t need, they just are occupying the space for anything new.  I don’t know how we do it, or should do it, the cleaning, but it is pretty much just like the way we actually clean a real white board. With a mug of water and a sponge (again some stupid metaphor, I don’t know what it means though).

I was thinking all this nonsense, floating adrift on some sky, wandering on the streets of some unknown land when a buzz on my phone pulled me back to my reality. A text message. The time was 12.06 am. It read “I am sad”… my white board was about to be stained again!

So, clean your boards, I am sure you have one. It is fun and more importantly, it helps!

Regards.

Winter is Coming

10th October, 2014.

Winter is coming! Yes I did use this precise quote on purpose, and no, I am not a diehard fanatic of game of thrones, I don’t even like that show. Yes I know that I may have pissed a lot of people, but then, I hardly am here to please the common lot! So, I’ll just let this pass and go on with the rant (remember, it is always the choice either to enable me by keep reading or just leave and indulge in the far more important things in a free evening).

Now as to why I used the line is a matter of perspective. For a few days it has been a routine for me to go for jogging, which is somewhat tiring (I am not morbidly obese, but physical exercise hasn’t been my strong suit exactly), but there is its own perks of early mornings. My younger brother is a fitness freak and it was his idea that I should accompany him in the morning. Believe me when I say this, 2 kilometers of a jog can be lethal if you are not accustomed to such cardio, and by the time I reach home, I am bathed in sweat and my breath is playing hula hoops inside, but let’s not go any far into that.

The park in the morning is full of people and there are two categories by far. Serious fitness nutjobs and enthusiasts…okay make it three, morbidly obese people who are there to prove something, which is a good thing. A closer observation will show ruddy teenagers who will start pull-ups in a moment’s notice whenever a slightly fairer dame passes by in her jogging dress (possibly a resident of g.k 2, bhai told me how to be certain).

I like the park (or forest for that matter). Especially during this time. By the middle of October, the advent of winter is practically evident in there. The surety of the winter chill is hard to miss when you leave the warm bed early wearing just a t-shirt and running pants, with sleep still razing your eyes. I mean it is neither too cold nor too warm.  The forest is not as green as it might sound, just imagine a forest in the middle of the city and you’ll know.

However, the silences there is irresistible and kind, avoiding the monotonous cacophony of the constant honking and slur remarks of the local public transport drivers… even if it is for an hour, the only sounds that you’ll ever come across in the forest is the rhythmic falling footsteps of the joggers, the laughs of old men of the laughing club and the panting for breath of people exercising. The slightly elevated path and the downward slopes in bricks and the huge dry trees that are the singularity of any ridge area of Delhi provides an ample amount of time just to sit there and take a deep breath and to forget that you live in a city that is the epitome of sound and loudness, the forest area amplifies these subtly sublime moments. And I can somewhat vouch for the fact that October is behaving like October…I like the smell of October air, it is inexplicable but not hard to miss, try it sometime! Leave your home for a walk in the oncoming chilly morning and maybe you’ll find a breath too.  Winter is coming!

Regards.

P.S – this one is probably the worst rant by far… I think a cup of tea will help… cheerio!

O the joy of spirit.

04th October, 2014.

The title is of a poem by Whitman and I suppose it makes sense for me... My spirit as of now is soaring high...

The effigy was finally on fire and the eternal symbolization of good’s triumph over evil was stated in a very obvious way. Yes I mean it was dusshera yesterday, and as much as I wanted to write this yesterday only, tiredness got the better of me. I was hoping that there would be a glass of a blender’s pride or Seagram’s, but alas, I don’t drink anyway, so let’s just substitute it with tea and get on with the rant of no apparent relevance.

I would be entirely truthful here; I was not expecting the pujo to be of any fun this year. A slight miasma of a dismal feeling and the slight discontent that was there last year led to this conjecture and frankly enough I was not in a very festive mood. Maybe it was the feeling that the “past repeats itself” which by the way is totally stupid, has made its way in my mind, but then, I’ve been wrong so many times! (Human nature people, we are stupid anyway!). I had this notion formed that this year too, I’d be disappointed by everything and everyone, but a sleight of hand, and I were in for a truckload of fun.

I would like to go into serious details of what kind of fun and stuff I had, but I think we are better off without it (seriously, we don’t have that much patience to listen to rants).  Rather, I think the focus over things most illuminated will be much better.

If none of you has seen the emotion of happiness metamorphosing into an ethereal entity, don’t sweat! For obvious reasons, you’re not high on acid or other mind numbing drugs. Neither is I, or was, but then, I guess after a series of dismay and boredom, a whole lot of happiness does takes a form of a walking creature. No, there indeed is no ball of pure light that passes through you, or a semi transparent gel like substance never protrudes from your chest to lead you to happiness (believe me, that would be eerily haunting), but there is this feeling of a massive, enormous inexplicable thing that keeps walking around you. This year’s pujo was something like that. The whole week was like one giant colossus with an armload of joy. Not for one moment was there any lethargy in the ambience. What it turned out was euphoria for me (and a slight nostalgia for my parents, something I intend to write later).

What’s more interesting was that there were no break in the words. Some pseudo promises were made and were kept. Bewildering for me as it was, I guess these subtle things kept the week going on its own accord of joy ride (I’ve no idea what this means, maybe you can figure it out, you incessant lot of reading dweebs! Heh)…

Pujo for me always meant a time to rejoice and meet friends from yesteryears, so it won’t be out of order if I mention that I met Trisha (school friend) after a long gap.  It was a plan we made to meet and I guess it was worth the wait. No really! Confirming it for at least two times a week became a habit and the finality was basically worth the wait.

And how can I possibly forget! The mention of the person here is the mark of this ridiculous rant I call blog. Now if I were to recall, last year was pretty much in dismay due to the person’s absence and her inabilities (I shall refrain to go any further in details regarding this, it’s none of your interest anyway). But this year, her presence was not only unexpected but also a huge element of surprise and joy’s corporeality to the festivity. I mean I can go on and on and on about her. Her beauty, her laughs the way she looks at things and the maturity she has with the childlike innocence and that’s all about this pujo, but I guess, no, I know she won’t be very much happy about her mention, she even may stop reading this as soon as she sees her this (please don’t), so I shall stop (shyness is her one attribute I never understood! It’s silly you know).  What turned out to be a bonus was the book she gave me. “Perks of being a wallflower”… the final mark was the overwhelming minute moment of her embrace I’ve been longing for so long! It was small and quick (I needed a long one dammit, next time I want one tight) but it was a feeling only I can explain and I won’t explain. I’d just say, it was warm. The pujo ended with her lovely touch and a meaningless laugh that I am still hearing. (again! I'm not high)

So to conclude this utterly ridiculous long blabber, this year’s pujo was great by all means. There was not one time that it made my days dismal, no plastic smiles and unintended wrongs and I am happy as a tripped up, stoned hippy high on LSD… yay!! And I guess I should thank everybody… so thank you…
Go have some tea, or a drink maybe. Watch some porn now, you've read for too long! (Or a movie I guess)

Regards.