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.

When September Ends

27th September, 2014.

I intended to write this one yesterday, but there are times when an overwhelming flood of sentiments just binds your hands. Your fingers won’t move either on the pages of your diary or the keyboard, so I guess, its okay to be late at times. Anyways, the rant of the psychosociopath –

26th September, 2014.

September ends. I never guessed that September would end so quickly and quietly. If I had to use one of my insensitive and inappropriate metaphors, I’d say it went away like a…umm okay leave the metaphors, let’s just stick to this surreally boring talk (a word of caution, it really would be appalling to your mind, if you want, leave now and watch porn and/or Vennu Malesh videos…).

So, my last two blogs were about the archives, this one is the final entry about it, and maybe the last mention of it here since today was the last class. If I start with what we did after class, it would turn this into a boring novella, so I’ll try my best to make this short and somewhat bearable.

The class ended…it started on the 1st September, and just when I started making friends it came to an abrupt end, with a silly conjecture of things that lies in between of so many things unsaid. Irony abounds when I did made friends out of thin air (either that happened or I was blind), and all of a sudden, the curtain falls. What I intended was that I’d just do my classes and pass unnoticed, which is usually the thing, and I ended up with discussing medieval European history with two fellow history students, the alternate version of biblical stories, the devil’s perdition for giving the first humans the ability of critical thinking, conspiracy between Da Vinci and the church…anything that was interesting. I intended to bury myself in some novels when there was no class and I ended up in smoking gold flake kings with a seriously uber cool girl who is basically the epitome of energy bursts and her “highness” (weed high that is) was really commendable (she stayed sober in class and I really will miss the shared cigarettes we both shared)… there are so many ‘intended’ and so many ‘ended ups’ that I am losing the count for each, and maybe I don’t even want to keep count, it’ll be a sacrilege to the happiness found.

The thing that actually worries me is the fact that there maybe is a chance that after this, we will be again on our ways to damnation and hell, with some touch of happiness in between the journey. And maybe, since world is a small place, we will cross each other somewhere least expected and some old sparks will rekindle (okay maybe I meant memories, but well…) but it will be momentary. We all are busy in making things happen that life runs out. Somebody told me, and I quote, “ zaruri nahin hain. Of course roz milna nahin ho sakta, but kabhi kabhi, surely!”… I just hope she is right.

If somebody ever asks me in future that what was the best thing that I had at the archives? My answer probably would be “another friendship” (I seriously do not have the slightest idea what I mean, but I am sure it will be the answer.)

The class ended with viva exam, the day ended with something else. After the exam ended, the plan was to visit Hauz Khas fort, yet Mother Nature gave her sincere efforts to make the day humid and sweaty, the visit would have killed the mood, instead, we decided to go to the apartments of a friend (Amrita di) at mayur vihar. Indeed there was an initial reluctance, but in contrast to the weather, now I guess it was a fine plan. A small party was the following consequence, with booze and drunken laugh. (I didn’t drink for the record, someone had to stay sober, indeed some cigarettes were not of harm and maybe the last ones, for I don’t know when I would meet someone like her or them again, I tend to smoke with friends.) Some silly drunken talks and meaningless laugh and the finality was the ephemeral promise to be in contact (ephemeral because I know people forget, I know I don’t, but can’t vouch for all, that is stupid, yet I hope).

The evening winds of a late September was kissing the sweat dry in that crowded public transport, and I was in that languid state with a loop of  talks and laugh and the smell of burnt tobacco… I woke up with the ever same tone of the driver -  “tigri..tigri..tigri.. hain bhaiyaa tigri wale utar jaayen..”… I paid the money to driver, and paid my thanks to the one who may or may not exists for these days and a slight anger for such a short time that ended in such a hurry. I walked for home in the falling night. September ends with a note to remeber... to remeber the september of 2014.

Regards.

Hidden Theories and Innocence.

20^th September, 2014.

So after five days of lethargic routine of confusions and bewilderment at the archives, with 10 minutes of peace with some grey ash on the ground and silver smokes in the sky, the long awaited Saturday arrived. No seriously, now I know why people are so mad for weekends! The laziness, languid miasma that ponders over after such hectic routine, yeh  toh banta hai boss!

But this is not what I want to rant and blabber about. This is about a realization and a subtle moment of happiness that marked my day. (It may not appeal to your massive intellect, because it is not related to the Kashmir flood or Syrian wars. sorry! This is just a crap blabber, go find some cat videos!).

To start with realization, I had to leave the velvet bed and the land of dreams for C.R Park this evening, had some errand to run. Easy thing, no problem, and plus, I needed he walk. Anywho, on my way to cr park, I met someone, it was a she, and was a former classmate in school. I won’t use the term friend for her anymore, well for the obvious fact that it was never there. And whatever remained was a bitter taste in the mouth (try eating aloe vera pulp, you’ll know!). Our eyes met, and instead of a familiar spark of old days, what came out was a sheer compulsion of walk-fast-as-you-can. This was the first realization. People change. That’s the rule of nature. But some changes are in a more negative part of the axis, which is fine by me; seriously, I don’t even care. They can go to the deepest part of inferno for that matter and the world would be (for me) a better place to live. Some bitter tastes are necessary in life anyway and a good mouthwash does help.

The second realization was at Cr Park. This too was related to school, and an old grudge. During the last days, a series of events followed, leading to the consequent formation of a toxicity which we know as anger. Well, toxicity would be an overstatement, I can justify my anger but let’s focus  on the matter at hand…where was I? Oh yes, grudge. So even after 4 years, the seething roil that crept inside me whenever I saw them persisted. But today, the momentary meetings made me realize that the grudge was meaningless. I wasn’t  angry on the guy (not wholly) I was angry at the events and his participation was too obvious to miss, but anyways, as mother says, it takes power to forgive, anger is just an excuse to be weak (never agreed, she is like Confucius, pata nahi kya bolti hain ). Anyways, maybe now I will be able to shrug off the anger and will ‘pardon’ him (yeah I feel like god,bitches!), but I can’t be sure. Heh! Needed an egg roll after this…

And after the series of  life altering and mood killing realizations (I hate you god, couldn’t pick any other day, could you?), happiness was tintin (nephew). Well, how shall I put it? Happiness was the two year old kid , who doesn’t even knows me as his uncle,  doesn’t remembers me, yet wasn’t afraid to hold hand and walk. (Dada, my elder brother and tintin’s father, says that he hardly does that to strangers) so, yeah, that was a moment to cherish. A childish innocence can be a powerful tool to change the moroseness into a joyous moment. And I guess a thank you for him won’t be out of order (note: buy him a chocolate…)

 So yeah, subtle happiness… “The child is the father of the man” would be an appropriate quote here!

The day ended with Lasya and fathers being on a loop along with poets of the fall with carnival of rust.

Egg roll for anyone? Perks of being at Cr Park, I guess…

Regards.

Turncoat

13^th September, 2014.

Since we can’t take our words back (a very quaint thing really, world would have been so easy!), I am going to try to rephrase my previous comment about certain things. Um… so, I was in the view that the classes at archives are dull and the people there are boring anyway, little I knew that I was wrong, so very wrong! Pity that this realization came in too late, for we have a very few days left together.

It’s not the classes are any more interesting than before, they are dull, but the people, well, that was a turn of events. Here I met some good people, who by far are great enough. People, who prove to be good friends and basically are unforgettable, you will actually feel their absence when things are over.  

But I have no one to blame but I, my unwillingness to participate in things has been proved to be negative in so many things and for so many times, that I really find myself oddly lucky to meet this people, and make them friends, who at times turn out to be life altering. I am indeed an ass to fail to see such things in my life, which leads to a humungous blunder and a serious scarcity of good friends (believe me, not good at all!). I cherish the thoughts of being alone, like those characters of Dr. House or Sherlock, but reality is hard enough to make you feel the need of friends, or people that you can relate with, and the feel is like kick in the balls! (Worst kind of analogy, but I am running out of sensible metaphors anyway, bear with me and my innuendos). If I start counting my friends in my hand, it will take me less than 10 seconds to complete the list.

So, to rephrase my comment over archives, I’d just say, I was wrong! I presumed that these people would be boring but I was gravely wrong! And maybe its not too late to make amends. So I guess I’ll have to make my best efforts for the days that remains till the course ends.

Note to self: take their contact numbers or at least add them on facebook (not sure though).

 

Regards.

Monsoon Automaton.

05^th September, 2014

Well it’s pretty soon on my part to write something again here, but I think the circumstances ask for it anyway.  The past few days, I've been like an automaton (those who don’t know, automaton is a self operating machine). Well not completely, but some similarity can be found, like the fact that I’ve been like a machine anyway for a couple of days now! It all started on the pseudo-unfortunate day of 1^st September, 2014, when I was enrolled into a course at the national archives. Little I knew that this was going to be this much lethargic. When I was enrolled, to be frank, I was expecting something totally different form of classes, with guided tours and practical handling of the records, but that’s a different issue altogether to speak, so I’ll just refrain that part, and go on with the rant I actually wanted to. Every morning, I wake up, do the essentials, and leave for the archives on the metro rail, hanging like a bat (rush hour fellas, welcome to Delhi!) at central secretariat to be greeted with the freshly mopped wooden floor with a pine fragrant floor cleaner and a silent building with a superficial silence and utter scholarly seriousness.

But the thing is I am yet to find the excitement that I usually sought after. Instead of that, I find a lethargic ambiance, followed by an utterly mundane miasma of gloom that ponders over me. Even after 5 days of class I am yet to find person/persons of interest, possibly because of the skepticism we all follow in a room full of strangers! More of that happens when the class has no interaction with students whatsoever with each other. They must be good people, maybe great people, but I guess we’ll never know. But no harm in hoping I guess!

Even the newly arrived monsoon seemed dull to me yesterday and today too, when I finally left the building, only to be greeted with a fresh burst of petrichor, but too tired to enjoy it. Instead, I just made my way to the busy station, hopped onto one and came back to my rooms. I went to the India gate in the slow drizzle days back, but that was dull and monochromatic without anyone else to enjoy that scenery with me ; well there indeed was a fleeting wish that someone would be there, but then, if each of our wishes came true, world would be a chaos.

The nights are dull, a simple break in a routine is very much lethal, especially when you look at your phone at every five minutes, with a hope of a text or a call, but end up switching it off after it is clear that you are done for the night… it’s late and maybe with a heavy sigh and twitching heart of hopes, you’ll go to sleep, partially waiting for a dull vibration in the phone…

So, that’s the phenomenal routine I am following these days of colorless days, dull rains in Delhi and maybe a difficult nights to spend in an animated state between being awake and sleeping, and I have absolutely no idea for how long will this continue. I really can’t ask certain things to happen, so I’ll just carry on with a Glasgow smile on my face.

Regards.