Rhythm

I hear distant drums being played on and I recall the story my grandmother told me about .... About people who used to relay all their messages through drums about the rhythm of the drum which conveyed all messages happy and sad the drums were such an important part of life it was like their armour to what life threw at them when drums were played upon and the person who played played it with such hardness and truthfulness that the messages became less important than the drum rhythm itself each person had his own version of the beats and the meaning itself - and slowly it became a ritual to play a drum - with no implications at all the rituals put the drum player on the highest pedestal among us - and then they were idolised and worshipped many generations later - worshipping the drum player with the playing of many drums started what else could a person ask for - then there will be competitions for the best drum player for the next generation and then slowly violence crept to win the highest honour many unsolved murders and politics were created then- now the it was life and death that was played upon- then there was a marriage when the clan could no longer take the blood anymore and thus started a custom of the son taking after the Father’s role - and then Fathers left secret will for their Favourite sons to take the position - this bought rivalry among brothers and bloodshed started now it was not between brothers - it was among two groups within a clan This bought many battles and heroes and many villains as well - it also left many widowed, handicapped and many inept at working anymore If a clan had the misfortune to lose a battle - they became slaves of their own people Some clan who again born a revolutionary who would break the shackles of slavery and then people started forgiving and let bygones be bygones - these old eyes had seen too much blood, anger and love - and my grandmother sighed when she said all this - I had slept by then on her lap and there were drums still ringing in my ears - or was it my heart pounding in my chest .....

A conversation with loneliness ....

A conversation with loneliness …

Today I had a conversation with loneliness ..not being alone but simply knowing that I felt lonely ….I asked ‘why do you come so often in my life? …to which it simply smiled and said ‘do you really have a choice ? I had to shrug my shoulders sigh and say ..’yeah I guess you are right …when everybody is gone that’s when you stay isn’t it ?.
I suddenly felt tears prick in my eyes..how alone am I to hold a conversation with loneliness ? I felt pangs of self sympathy, hatred and anger ….again loneliness touched me with ice cold fingers and said .. ‘why do you hate me so much ? why do you hate my presence? It sounded hurt …almost apologetic and I felt sorry for it …
So strange it must be isn’t it to never ever to be with people and pick out someone who hasn’t got anyone and be with them and hear them moaning about your presence ….

I looked at it and asked ‘how do you know who is feeling lonely? …she looked into my eyes and said ..’its the eyes …they speak a lot ‘….the way they shy away ..the way they long to get away from a place ..they way their breathing goes heavy as though their heart weighs them down …it’s the longing in those eyes that call me …’
I nodded …and I said ‘do you feel happy when you are with them ? Loneliness laughed at this …and it said I am feeling …it’s the first time someone asked if I have feelings too … I don’t know what are they ..this is what I do …….I then asked – OK do you think people are happy when you come to them …It thought for sometime ..and said ‘ some people embrace me ..they yearn for my presence ..they say I bring them peace …I bring lots of silence with me …but there are some people who abhor me ..run away from me ..i think its fear that they will end up like me ….travelling around with no constant companion …but there are some like ..she smiled like you ..'who don’t know what to do with me' ……I smiled not knowing what to say …..and ‘I said whom are you the most happiest with? She thought with her pale eyes looking down and said .. I am happy if that’s what you call it when I find a person accepting me slowly …knowing that I am harmless and uses me to heal itself ….but I find it difficult when someone is with me people don’t find it normal .. they say 'oh he or she is lonely'…..No they are not they are with me !

I smiled and thought about what she said …and I said where do you come from? She said well it depends …I said it depends ??…on what ??...It replied ‘ I come from the same reasons I come for …I come from peace if a person wants peace ..I come to be with people if they want my company….so my cause is my reason too ….

And what do you think of death? she shrugged and said ‘ I die in million places at the same time …I die when I am born ..but in different places …in different forms ....
I said ..and what about death of people ….? She said ‘most of the time I am not there when a person dies .. they have lots of things in mind and around them … their memories, love, experiences , their journey ahead …..a person doesn’t feel lonely in death .. he either has lots of love or fear …...I sometimes am a bystander that’s all ….
Don’t you feel sorry for a dying person- I asked? ..It looked at me as though to ask whats to feel sorry about in That ? I said ‘have you felt bad for anyone at all .....and then I stopped midsentence as Ithought whom am I kidding ..it has no feelings !....
Surprisingly she answered me …she said 'yes I feel sad when I go near lonely children …when I see a miracle of this world ..wandering away and longing for something else I have a very bad feeling …I try to talk to them…but I dont know if it helps …..I looked at her with awe …..it had a heart too…..


I nodded ..it was right …I said ‘do you have these moments when you need to be alone as well’ …it looked straight ahead and said nothing ….it said ‘ I am me …cant be someone else’ ….she looked at me with strange eyes and said ,…you have asked me so many things ….Can I ask you something? I replied ‘ yeah go on’….Are you happy now ? I thought and said ‘yes I am’ ..then she said ‘oh good and why is it? ..cos I smiled and said 'I am with you'…..

Back Home ....

:) - Finally arrived at my sweet home and feels I was never away for 3 years.
Not sure how to put this in words but it feels strange - like a stranger among friends - like a lone person in a houseful of people.
Things have not changed drastically but I have noticed certain trends that have crept up -
One thing I was so disappointed with was the THE HINDU paper !! - They have reduced the number of pages and the material is just the basics - The additionals used to be such a wonderful timepass -now its more like THE METRO in UK - where are THE HINDU standards gone ?

I am happy about Hyderabadi people more casual about Girls wearing Jeans, less complaining about traffic ,pollution - I am not talking about places like Himayatnagar, Ameerpet and Panjagutta where this is the norm - This is the outskirts of Hyderabad where milk is still supplied after fresh produce from buffaloes and not milk packets - where a weekend doesn't mean shopping but a good lunch and an afternoon siesta :) .

TV serials and movies - south India - especially Kerala channels are based on 3 things
1- women either as oppressed or as cunning villain for the whole serial- a Vamp.
2- singing competitions ( too many of them )
3 - GOD - from Swami Ayappan to Devi.

I have not even forayed into the channels like Start plus gold and all- scared that I will become a Zombie in front of the TV like many others in India.

Food is a great thing - ask any Indian anywhere in the world. A simple Aloo fry with Mom's touch is heaven - no words or expressions will justify that.

India - The land of Call centres - is a norm now - I remember the time Aunty's used to gossip about the so and so ki beti is going in a cab at night and working in a call centre - the Stigma is still there for a middle class family but the call centre trend continues - Of course has ups and downs but people are living with it - no one frowns or becomes ecstatic about a call centre work.

This one is I think a little funny but I am quiet happy with this trend- Foreign returned Girls or Guys no longer get the AWE from people- Not because they are jealous or anything- Because literally each family has got one person who has gone to the West. They know the Dubai Waiting times nightmare- The luggage problems for which they will sympathetically nod - the Indian Instant food we get abroad - The webcam to webcam chatting on laptops....

Coming to which - Mobile phones - the first thing my friend asked me when he picked me up was which mobile am I using - My servants daughter has a mobile phone which my mom calls incase she is late!! (This is not an exaggeration)
This is not to portray there is no poverty here or that the country has developed and there are no woes -
Traffic, Poverty still prevails but the degree of poorness has come down -

A middle class family with a four wheeler and one of their children abroad is UPPER middle class :) - a 'poor' family with a mobile phone - What do I call them ?

India and Traffic - Horrendous is the best word to describe it - Its the usual but the 2 wheelers replaced by 4 wheelers now - I have not seen a single Cycle or a Luna on the roads - its Cars, MotorBikes and HondaActivas now - Women Drivers are a norm -

I can go on writing about each and everything but do not want to overamplify little things here - the above things are mere observations of mine - At the end of the day I am glad I am back.

Pursuit of Answers ??

Watched the movie Kancheevaram today - No doubt a super movie with a tragic ending or should I say an ending which is normal and not the happily ever after we are used to.
The film made me think about a lot of things - Love for our own Blood- The Pride in being young - the Compromises of old age- The Promises told many times over but never fulfilled - The Choice we make and the Sanity that keeps us in this mad mad world ...

Every person will at some point of time come to this tug of war between His own personal desires ,aspirations and The worldly expectations - We as human Beings- as man and woman play these games and decision and choices which make no sense when we are on our death bed - Will it really matter if I was a software engineer and had a huge bank balance - But will it also matter if I am poor and my children steal for food ? Where does the balance lie and what is this balance... where is sanity ?

We record histories- we salute heroes - We bury and respect the dead- We make the dead alive in so many stories to our children - during rituals in family occasions - During someone else's death - times when they become one among us -

For me its impossible to imagine my old age and death - I can only talk about it - be philosophical about it but may be when I lie to die I may realise how foolish I was -
Or who knows I may be proud about it - WHO KNOWS ?

I remember Gandhiji's Talisman which talks about recalling the weakest man in times of doubt and if it leads to freedom for him and many alike then all over doubts will melt away - I feel we ourselves are the weakest man whom we know best -

So when I am contemplating the next stage of my life- career, marriage,location, in other words all things that matter to me today will the weakest man in me understand and clear my doubts or is my death bed the better yardstick to compare?

Is the destination not as important as the journey ? why does it not matter what the destination is - Death is our destination - No matter how we make the journey we reach there - The peace in death lies in what journey we had before -

The balance lies as to what that peace is for each one of us.

I have no answers yet for my peace - as usual mind is so bogged down with emotions no practical tick list comes which I can say is a benchmark for me.I believe each one of us or atleast some of us are in the pursuit of that answer which will make us happy - will keep us happy even in death -

The irony is that our answer is only tested against one Question once in Life - During Death.

The train station

Today after a lazy Sunday afternoon of cleaning cooking and washing clothes…I went out to buy some stuff for home …

It was a wonderful weather. ..neither hot nor chilling cold…a gentle wind which plays with my hair ..bringing many strands on my face,eyes…made me feel like a movie heroine about to meet her hero ;) hehehe

And then I went to this railway station which is just beside my home..literally 20 steps away ..I always loved trains ..right from long journeys back home to the sound of the trains rhythm …. One of my mom’s relative home is situated adjacent to a railway track ….I always used to envy the little girl who stayed there ….:) ….she used to wave her hands to random strangers….and I could very well relate to the passengers in the train .. going to different places ….I was one among them always and how I yearned to be the one waving hands …
……When I moved to this home this station was one of the deciding factors …not for the practical aspect of reaching work early, simply because I could listen to the rhythm …..Everyday ….Our kitchen overlooks the train station and Its not a busy one...its those one of the smaller stations where many people don’t get down or get in but is nevertheless there …..So while I am cooking or washing vessels or having my tea early morning …the rhythm …is music to my ears …as though a tune of melodies passes over my heart and mind and it relaxes me immensely …..

So the station that I look at everyday I walked towards it...I grinned like someone who has got the cream ...and I simply loved it ….I was alone at the station …..No one at sight …..Like an abandoned station but alive in so many ways …This was not one of those very actively maintained stations that we see …It was just a simple station with 2 tracks on both sides of the stations and fencing at the borders to prohibit trespassers….and then 2 tunnels started at some distance on opposite sides….and then beyond the tracks the carvings of raw soil and stone which made this station possible. Every train passenger will know this …those sights of green patches of grass over some rocky stones....

I didn’t saviour this silence for long cos along came a train and waited at a distance like asking me ‘Can I go now and break this silence’ ….And after a 2 minute wait It went …….For some time the sound echoed through out ….. I started walking towards the exit and It felt as though I was the only person alive on this earth …It was not that eerie silence that haunts many but the silence in between the bird chirping, the stray cat walking among bushes., the crunch of gravel and what not below my shoes, and the gentle wind that sways above the tracks… and the ruffle of my coat against me ……

I am back to my room and I feel that silence within me … It has been gulped by me like air and that silence is now travelling unknown destinations within …..

Three Suitcases and a bag

10th Jan 2010...


I am moving home …and it takes me back to some memories in the past …

Standing among all the things of the house on the back of a lorry and grinning with my brother and my dog Caesar …yelling my name over and over in the centre of the newly painted unfurnished room…drinking in the smell of the kerosene pungent paint smell…playing at the large plonks of dried paint on the kitchen slab…and being scolded my parents over nothing or something …among the whole chaos of sorting things ….

And then slowly like clouds …. the home gets our smell.. a mixture of mothers sambhar.. dads pooja rooms agarbathi ..my shampoos and books …Caesar’s wet fur after his bath …brothers stinking shoes or shirts :) ……and then finally I know its home ….

Today I am packed...Three suitcases a bag and me ….

…..Time and experiences are like the hammer and the chipper an artist uses to carve the image he wants from the raw stone……time and experiences in our life shape us up... and surprisingly the artist is no one else but we ourselves …we shape our image …….and at some stage we stop and look at our image ....like an artist gauging his work …and it is this introspection that makes us human….someone in touch with themselves …..
When death arrives …we are merely changing the raw stone on which a new image can be carved upon….

It’s a great realisation when this hits upon me …I suddenly realise the reasons for my failure…it was simply me ….not bad timing or bad luck …It was how I had shaped things…..

Today I am moving out ....and this was thought by me some months before…I needed a different place to carve myself …

Three suitcases and a bag packed and I feel empty inside …like I have settled accounts…like everything has been done …completed and yet there’s nothing I have done ….

I had unpacked my things here 2 years back …and in many ways life unpacked something different at very different points of time …the things that came out at every point ….were somehow right…..now they never seem wrong in any sense…
Its right ….somehow it fits … somehow my never ending jigsaw puzzle is almost complete with everything however wrong in place ……

I am as clueless as I was 2 years about this place..people,things,mindsets etc....
I have collected some things, memories which come back when I pack stuff...Some good and bad reminders of past. Past... a time that can never come back...Present that’s becoming past every passing minute and future that constantly races with the present......

and yet I end up with three suitcases a bag and me ....:)

a bird wants to fly...

Lost in this world of white faces,
Painted with no expression like Geishas..
My soul my eyes yearn..
Its as though a bird from my soul
Wants to fly back to my place ..
Among faces I know, to emotions I can see

Oh what I would not give for some fragrance
Some noise around me instead of this silence…
Instead of thick sweaters,mufflers ,faces lost in books
Bodies half sunken in clothes or their prejudices
Of being Asian ,British or Jamaican …

I want to go back
Not to a particular country or place
But to that moment of time
When all this didn’t really matter ..
Where all it counted was to be happy

To a time when mistakes were forgiven,
Egos not developed, as Time the teacher
Lay lazily spread out in my path…
When I was like a mould of clay
And every presence left a mark on me …..

Oh I am so lost ..or am I really??
Have I lost the path or have I lost me ??