40

Music has led you back to this place.

It's the same song, or three. It's the same mood of the night. It's the same rabbit hole that you went haring down all those years ago.

Indraikkum Yendraikkum Nalla Naal Dhaan.

And just like that, one stray line, a whiff of a long lost memory, leads you down to where you haven't been in a while.

A long while.

Hello.

Maybe this is generosity towards yourself. Maybe this is weekend desperation. Or maybe it's just an ill-advised overdose of sugary substances before sleep.

Maybe. Or not. Who cares.

You are here, might as well make the most of it.

Isaithida Yennai Thedi Varanum.

Might as well see if the words will come to you.

Unbeckoned. Unforced. Unfettered.

See if there's rhythm in that stride. See if there's fluency in the fingers. See if there's want or if you're wanting.

(Damn, that bass guitar feels so good on the ears)

See if inspiration can still sail you along miles into your memories. Or will the wind wrap around itself leaving you high and dry?

Kisi Na Kisi Se Koi Kuch Toh Keh Raha Hai.

You just want to sit silently. You just want to remember the cherry red of a hard new SG Cricket ball, recall its leathery heft in the hollow of your palm. You don't want to think of the clothes in the balcony or that they have to be brought in from the rain.

You remember a hotel room in Perth almost 20 years ago and getting your hair cut by a woman. You just want to smell the morning on the grass in Hannover. You even want to watch the monsoon make its way high over the Western ghats.

There was a time when time was not so precious, but life was still a matter of life and death.

But then here you are, might as well make the most of it.

Kizhakkumugam Veluthuvittaal Irulukku Mudivundu Engalukku Vidivundu.

There's light sliding under the blinds, seeping through like water slowly overflowing out the bathroom door. There's a yawn, and another, and another. There's no escaping dawn, is there?

A few more hours before the household will haul itself up on its feet, and song will have to cede to sobriety.

Soon the lists will be on you and listlessness will ensue. Soon you will linger around laundry. Soon you will go back to where you just came from.

But hey, at least for now, here you are.

Make the most of it.

:-)

35

And just like that, you're 35.

It's past midnight before you get a breather.

And you feel like listening to songs you've not heard in a million years.

Almost as if you wanted to see if a tiny fragment of you was alive and well.

Why did it take me so long just to find ... ?

The emails kept piling up all day.

Wishes from people who knew you before you knew yourself.

Wishes from people who know very little of you, but wishes all the same, to keep you warm on a cold winter's day.

A kind soul sends you flowers.Another sends you a beautiful card.

A friend takes the time to write you after years. And then there are those who don't expect anything but still make it a point to call you.

It is true. The kindness of strangers is the purest.

Do you spend your life / Going back in your mind to that time?

You know you're capable of equal parts magic and malevolence.

You know you can be both hero and hustler.

You intimately know beauty and betrayal, duty and disappointment.

You know everything there is to know.

Yet you know so little.

And would you save my soul tonight?

And just like that, you're 35.

It's sunset and he's walking on Mount Road, towards the Nungambakkam flyover.
 
The traffic is heavy. It usually is at this point in time. People heading home. Heavy bus traffic, honks blaring. Of course, he can't hear anything, he has his earphones plugged in.
 
The buildings yield, the traffic thins, the road widens and that's when the sky opens up.
 
Glorious evening sky over Madras.
 
Sodium smooth and radio blue, crow speckled, leaping from east to west.

Almost as if all that the sun wanted to do that day was lie down and die, and let itself bleed slowly across all of eternity.
 
Sattendru maarudhu vaanilai ...
 
There was a time when such unbearable beauty would have torn his insides apart, left him feeling unhinged and unmoored, filled him with an urge to tell someone about it, tell someone that the world was beautiful and that life was thrilling.
 
Somewhere, somehow, all of that has changed.
 

***

  

Harini.
 
He was sitting at the Ispahani Centre bus stand, earphones streaming songs from Minnale.
 
His office used to be around here and he would often catch a bus from this very bus stand on a Friday evening to go to the beach or just take a tour of the city.
 
It was drizzling and he'd cycled through the other hit songs from the movie and was a little absent minded when Ivan yaaro started to play.
 
Roughly two minutes into the song, he sits up, pauses the player, slides the song back a little on his phone and replays it.
 
There. No mistaking it.
 
He pauses the song, and plays that bit over again.
 
Nenjae nenjae unnai, ullae vaiththadhu yaaru ...
 
Almost as if Harini, otherwise peppy and playful in the rest of the song, threw a little bit of her soul into that one line.
 
Almost as if she wanted to lay herself bare for that one line, her voice straining, searching for that bit of pain to paint a pointless line with.
 
Yaeno yaeno yennai, paarkka seidhaai unnai ...
 
There was a time when lines sung like that would have turned him inside out for life, left him feeling a little less desolate and made him want to lay himself bare to someone in return.
 
He smiles to himself.
 
Somewhere, somehow, all of that has changed.

As Good As It Gets - Thoughts

I finally got around to seeing "As Good As It Gets" on TV. Thought I'd put down some thoughts while the afterglow lasts.

1. "And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me." This, and then there's another exchange when Melvin is strong-arming Carol into accompanying him on the trip to Baltimore: "You're saying accepting your help obligates me?"-"Is there any other way to see it?". And there are other scenes that I can't remember now. What I like about all these exchanges is how the movie is very comfortable in its skin about love, and kindness, ultimately being about one's own self and ego, no matter how much we want to say, or think or feel, that it's about the other person, or that it's about being selfless. There's an acceptance of our "self-centred-ness" in relationships that's  very grown-up, world weary, tolerant, lighthearted and refreshing.
2. "It's very weird now not feeling that stupid panic feeling inside me all the time. Without that, I just start thinking about myself, and what good does that ever get anybody?" This is what makes one fall in love with Carol. Because she puts in words the guilt that all of us, in the midst of routines and responsibilities, feel on a daily basis.
3. Melvin's squeamishness when people are genuinely grateful to him, and also how he doesn't take advantage of certain situations, like when he doesn't let on to Carol that he's asked for Simon's things to be moved into his apartment even though it would help him score brownie points with Carol. There's something gentlemanly in his character which is otherwise curmudgeonly.
4. Carol waving to Spence from the bus. Carol calling Spence as soon as she gets to Baltimore. You can see the pensiveness and anxiety that comes from having to care for someone who's totally dependent on you. And then, when she hears that Spence was playing soccer and scored a goal, she becomes a butterfly who wants to go dancing.
5. The fluidity of the narrative and the natural ease with which one scene melts into the next. Great screenplay.
6. "Well, here's a little suitcase shocked that it's being used." ... "There's no way to pack for this trip." ... "Nice packing" As someone who's had to go on multiple unforeseen trips accompanied by last minute packing, and also as someone who's had to to lug suitcases down from the loft not just for myself but for the whole family because I was the tallest, these one-liners brought a smile to my face. But then, the movie is full of great dialogue.
7. Excellent acting from everyone in the movie. Nicholson and Hunt are downright brilliant. Their Oscar wins were well deserved.

I don't think I'll be able to do justice to the movie given that it's 6 AM and my insomnia is finally wearing off. I will see if I can write a Part Two, although it seems highly unlikely given how rarely I post here.

Kangana Ranaut

R. E. S. P. E. C. T.

P. S.: A and I just saw TMWR.

Itni Khafa Nahi ...

It's 1 AM.

We are somewhere near South Ex, the cab gritting its gears through unfriendly truck traffic.

I'm playing chess on the phone, cheating a little by taking back moves now and then. The other guys are either sleeping or staring out, lost in thought.

And then, out of nowhere, the ether comes alive on FM. I ask the driver to turn up the volume.

Kahin toh ... Kahin toh ... Hogi woh ...

2008.

Innocence. Bushelfuls of it. And loads more to spare.

Life was suddenly a series of trips. Buses. Metros. Flights. Stations. Airports. Never staying too long in one place. Never planning for anything beyond tomorrow. One day at a time. One step at a time. Fragile. Handle with care.

Conversations. Possibilities. Uncertainty, brittle unforgiving uncertainty. Triumph. And disaster too, gut-wrenching disaster. How the world felt too big and too little at the same time.

2008.

The year that's too full of memories. The year that just would not come to an end. The year that changed everything. Forever.

And all it takes is that Rahman special to make me feel I can never be home again.

Jaane Naa Kahan Wo Duniya Hai,
Jaane Naa Wo Hai Bhi Ya Nahi,
Jahan Meri Zindagi Mujhse,
Itni Khafa Nahi ...

Delusion

The seductiveness of one's own words. The thrill in hearing your own voice. The delicacy called personality.

The holiness of ambition. The cunning succulence of dreams. The plan behind plans.

The righteousness in honest pursuit. The masochism of struggle after breathless struggle. The addiction that accompanies accomplishment.

The passion for opinion. The virtuousness of being neutral. The bliss of ignorance. The gravity in which judgment can be left suspended.

The innocence that permits guilt to freely parade itself. The defenses that are fortified with anger. The regrets that seek attention. The ease of hate. The clinginess of grief. The sly civility of compassion.

The uncountable stories of the self.

Holland.

Absolutely Hammered Spain.

Reminds me why I watch sport.

Had the day off today. Spent it resting. It's been a crazy couple of weeks at work. Mind's still buzzed. Need to switch off. I realize it's the one skill that's going to prove crucial in the future - switching on and off.

Over the last few months, I've come to realize that I can get really obsessed with things. When I think about how I've behaved on certain occasions in the past, I can, with the benefit of hindsight, point out episodes of obsession: with playing sports, with reading, with writing, with work, with hobbies, with all sorts of stuff ... I get into this frame of mind when nothing else seems to get through. My mind picks up momentum and it just doesn't stop, doesn't let other things in, no multitasking at all. Whatever I'm obsessed with takes priority over everything else. My sleep cycle goes for a toss, I don't eat properly, I lose my appetite ... It didn't matter when I was younger, but at 30, I find this exhausting and draining. And it's taking me longer to recover from these bouts of obsession.

When I'm obsessed, I somehow feel that it's all or nothing, that I have to give this everything every minute of the day else I'm not doing it justice. I have to stop thinking like this. I need to be able to put in a few hours of well-directed effort every day over a longer, much longer, period of time rather than invest my energies in a highly intense, concentrated burst of effort. I need to be able to say "Okay, this is how much time I'm gonna spend on you and after that I've got other things to take care of".

Like I said, need to figure out how to switch on and switch off.

***

I've also realized that I don't listen to music as much as I used to earlier. Heck, I don't even think it's 10% of what it used to be. So I spent the day listening to a lot of Adele and Ludovico Einaudi.

Adele is phenomenal. The power, the agility, the range, the emotions, the rawness and the honesty of her voice. She's a thing of beauty. Every time I hear her, I feel grateful for being alive. I'd like to hear her live if I get the chance.

PS pointed me to Ludovico Einaudi when I was in Bombay. I got back to LE today after a long time. Truly wonderful compositions. All I want to do is just lie back, close my eyes and soak in the music.

***

I want to start writing again.

Gratitude

Thank you.

For saving me.

Origami

Take a sheet of paper.

Cut it square to size.

Fold once across the middle.

Fold again down the centre.

Peel back the loose flaps.

Slide your fingers inside the heart.

Pull apart.

A paper boat now

lies on the table

between us.

I feel sorry for Australia. Things could have been so different if they had won at Trent Bridge. Hope they put up a fight at Old Trafford.

Is Australia the new India? They are losing everywhere, home and away.

***

Two movies across two weekends. Lootera and Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. Makes me feel productive!

Farhan Akhthar carries BMB on his gym-or-nothing shoulders. If I was not a fan earlier, I am one for life now.

***

I've been reading The Power Of Habit over the last week. Was talking to A about how all that people seem to do in their twenties is lay all the good work from childhood to waste. Result? Mediocre lives. Including self? Time will tell.

***

I miss my friends. S is in the country but we can't meet. Haven't spoken to anyone in ages. ABJ, KSK, AG, K ... Need to get over my resistance to online media.

***

Dreamt about dad again last night. I seem to recollect sobbing in my sleep. Wonder what's screwed up in my head.

Dreamt of loosing my teeth again, the right canine this time. I'm guessing it's all the anxiety from wanting to do well on the work and home fronts.

***

A joined a yoga group this week. She asked me to accompany her, to motivate her and act as a sort of spotting buddy. I refused.

***

I'd give an arm and a leg to be in Bombay now.

and when it stops pouring,

the wind evaporates
between buildings,

stealing the traffic
to suburbia.

wet socks and dripping

umbrella, you find yourself

square in the middle
of a bombay puddle,

with no ride back home.

Naivete

I believed if you were good at heart, meant nobody any harm and went about your life peacefully, you would be fine, that you would be -- if I can allow myself to say it -- happy.

I believed that love could never hurt, that it would never shrink the heart, that it was the most beautiful emotion in the world.

I believed that if you found what you loved doing, you never had to work a single day in your life, that you would relish getting up from bed and facing the world head on.

I believed that the world was a lovely place to be in, that people were mostly good at heart and believed in a honest life well lived.

I believed in myself, that no matter what, I would always overcome and triumph.

Now I know.

1. Give. Never take. Never want to take. Never ask anybody for anything.
2. Never whine.
3. Read. Everything.
4. Value time. And being disciplined. These are no-brainers.
5. You will never cherish being lazy.
6. Purity. Honour. Truth. Honesty. Integrity. Dignity. In thought, word and action. Above everything else. If you're not there yet, try and you will.
7. Ego. Desire. Anger. Renounce the ego. Desire and anger will disappear on their own.
8. Value people and relationships. But don't go overboard with it.
9. 'Silence is golden'. There's a reason why it's a proverb. Don't talk unless necessary. Allow for meaningful conversation to happen, but don't go looking for it.
10. You will never cherish watching TV.
11. Write. Everyday.
12. Hold your tongue. Don't gossip. Never speak ill of others.
13. Never give in to the lure of "cool".
14. Be warm, to everyone. But don't be stupid.
15. Help when asked for. Venture advice when asked for. Don't be presumptuous. But learn to judge when someone wants help or advice but is too proud to ask for it. Develop and use your discretion in such cases. After having helped/ advised, forget about it.
16. Learn from the past. Then forget it.
17. Be grateful. Always. Even for the tiniest of things.
18. Respect everybody. Trust nobody.
19. You don't know everything. You haven't experienced everything. You're not God's gift to mankind.
20. Everything passes.
21. Patience is a virtue. So are resilience and persistence.
22. Dream.
23. Eat well. Sleep well. Stay fit.
24. Refrain from judging. You're the pigeon one day, the statue the next.
25. Watch children. Listen to the squirrels. See birds fly. Gaze at the stars. Look at colours deeply.

The 100% Perfect Girl

Winter is still here. The park is frozen.

You're wrapped up in an old green sweater that smells like home. Your nose is runny. Your eyes are tired, your hair clumsy.

We've been sitting quietly all evening, the air between us heavy with distance. It feels like we have weighed it down with all the words that could ever be spoken between two people. It feels like we could go another hundred years without talking.

But then you turn to look at me.

Those beautiful big eyes blink into mine.

Before thought can spark into language and ruin everything, before the cold can clamp its claws around our hearts, before time can ply its trade and memory can trap us with its tyranny, our souls understand the simple truth in our eyes.

A smile seeks its way out, feeble like the sunshine. On your face and on mine.

And the walls crumble. Just like that.

I want to reach out, hold your hand in my hand, ask you how you are, where you've been hiding from me all this while. I want to tuck the stray strands of hair falling on your forehead behind your ear, tell you how beautiful you look even though I know you'll snort in disbelief. I want to tell you that I'm sorry, that I've been an idiot, that I didn't know what I was doing and all the usual lies men tell women.

But all that can wait.

I want to erase every memory, wind the clock back to the beginning of time. I want to take every word I have said and throw it back into the well of silence where it belongs. I want to hold you in my arms and never ever let you go; no, not even if you want to go sleep.

But all that can wait.

For now, all I want to do is gaze back into your eyes, smile till you start squirming despite all these years, till you start laughing and ask me to not look at you that way, till you look down and away, shy all of a sudden.

For now, all I want is this tiny piece of heaven to last forever.

Even spring can wait.

Title reference

Hello World

Sunday morning. First sunny day in ages. Or at least the first one you've managed to see.

Bend, double tie your laces, look left, look right, plug earphones in snug and set off.

Fifty strides in, Anushka Manchanda shuffles in neatly and starts to crank it up inside your head.

Mit Jaaye Gham, the chorus croon around all her spunk.

The delicious perversion of running to a remixed song about rebellion hits you. A smile spreads its warmth thinly across your lips. Smoking it up couldn't have found a more bedevilling evangelist.

You find yourself starting to stretch your hamstrings. The calves begin to tighten. You reach deep into your lungs. Hold it. Stretch it. Let go. Let go. Let go ...

Let go.

Mit Jaaye Gham. Mit Jaaye Gham.

The sun slips behind a cloud, the stride swings sweetly into form and hits the rhythm -- stretch, float, land, let go, stretch, float, land, let go ... You put the girl on loop. Her high-pitched angst screams its way into your soul. You let it flood your insides and pump it clean right out of your lungs.

Dum Maaro Dum.

DUM.

MAARO.

DUM.

One more stride.

Stretch.

Land.

Let go.

One more stride.

HARE. KRISHNA. HARE. RAM.

Thirty minutes. Sweat starts stinging your eyes. The lungs start to hurt. The stomach tightens every time your shoe crashes down on the concrete. Every breath burns its way in and out of your chest.

The pain starts to wall up.

You start searching. Probing. Looking desperately inside yourself for something to hang onto, to keep you going.

And then out of nowhere, the voice  cuts through the fog:

Duniya ne humko diya kya. Duniya ne humse liya kya. Hum sab ki parvah kare kyun. Sabne humara kiya kya.

Somewhere something gives. The sky explodes into a thousand pigeons.

Hum sab ki parvah kare kyun...

You clench your fist, start grinding your teeth; the more it hurts, the harder you breathe. You turn a sadist after your own self.

Sabne humara kiya kya...

With every step, you draw more into your self. Diving. Plunging. Snorkelling right down to the depths where you've buried yourself.

Andar ke bandar se ho guftgu si ek baat...

Just when all hope seems lost and you're running out of breath and the pain threatens to drown you, you start to surface, climbing, shrugging aside all that sea-weed, out, into the sunlight where the world's waiting for you, and you alone.

Hum sab ki parvah kare kyun. Sabne humara kiya kya...

And just like that, there's no pain any more. There's no point to it any more.

Mit Jaaye Gham.

Dum Maaro Dum.

Breathe. Run. Breathe. You just got yourself an unlikely anthem.

Her first letter

i'm chewing through my nails,
the thick sharp taste of dirt
on my tongue, when i read
your letter the second time.

in the years to come, you might
never learn of this, my first
act of love, my needs

breeding into greed; you will
never know how i touched
what you touched, how i ran

around every bend your
evasive sentences took till
i lost myself between

paragraphs, how i pursued
your blue words till they
surrendered all

their meanings, how my eyes
paused for breath at the end
of the page only to climb up

and start reading a third time.

He looks at at the labels on the drawers.

"NEEDED REGULARLY"

The words cleanly snipped out from a print-out.

"NEEDED BUT NOT REGULARLY"

Tacked onto the laminated wood with a stretch of cellophane tape.

"WANTED BUT NOT NEEDED"

He wonders which one he falls into.

Positive Impetus

Goal for August: A sparkling sonnet in smooth iambic pentameter.

I'm putting this meter-and-rhyme bitch away for good.

I will.

Watch this space.

PS: I don't even know how to count syllables properly :-/ {Oh yes, what's the point of achievement if you don't start off by undermining yourself? That way the dopamine lingers for longer :)}