Sunday, November 08, 2009

The tail

Eh. Oh.


One can never really dwell on the mysteries of Conveying and Comprehending. I’ve faced such situations myself; some embarrassing, some pleasing, some none and some unclassified. Here’s a figment of imagination that tries to explain the Eh-Oh of life or a relationship or a connection between two entities.

Ark, an imaginably sensitive but sensible man goes by his daily routine, stands by his principles and believes in the power of the paranormal. He’s an Eh? He raises questions on uncertainties and has the habit of losing his way in his dreams of thought.

Olia is a downright selfish girl with no emotional balance in her heart but just a plain walker in life. An abnormal, absurd instance never raises her eyebrow. She counts life in seconds. She gives just an Oh to everything.

Ark and Olia happen to be the best buddies. Ark never questioned himself why he’s close to Olia. Olia just talks and talks to Ark, shares smiles and tears when her emotional balance is at one extreme. Ark is aware of her uncanny behavior. Ark, being an extreme Altruist, does everything he can to console Olia when she is at one end of the balance. He also grapples with the other end of her emotional balance. Olia almost never reciprocates his altruism. She just consumes it and the yesterday becomes a thing of the past, the day after such an incident. Ark conveys the care and affection. Olia just takes it and Ark comprehends this as a step to unintended but true Oppression.

This little weak link between the two gives Ark a night of nightmare. The next morning, Ark texts Olia ‘May be I should try wearing a don’t care attitude.’ Olia, just up from sleep replies by saying ‘Oh, good for you’ with a smile.

Somebody sense the tone. I say A, not Eh. I say O, not Oh.

Altruism gets Oppression!

That’s the body of the figment. The tail is the tomorrow of life and understanding.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Factorizing a day

Refactoring

It doesn’t end, does it? There is stunning equilibrium in the process of continuity. And then there is Cold war, when thought makes a friendly visit. Then we change, as we are consumed by the onset of this cold war. A war in itself. In one’s self.


He picked up his toothbrush, to make the gentle to and fro motion, brushing his thoughts, organizing them for the clock to strike the right time. Hoping the clock adds second upon second, without having to go back, to reframe the past; the froth in every stroke, without the foul smell of decay.

The glass was left in its half. Half full of water. He drank half of it that quenched his thirst. With the thud of the glass, he watched the ripples on the surface dying with time. He tapped it a little and watched the process, again and again. Half full or half empty, the essence is the same. For him, it was how much was drunk and how much is left. He put on his coat to extinguish the day.

The tiny drop of sweat wet his shirt. He left it to itself. The cloth in his pocket would cool it down sooner. The longer it stays, the longer it is exposed to air, the longer he could feel the effect of evaporation. Perspiration cools me down, he thought. A day’s work is counted in your breath.

He talked to his friend over the phone. He gazed more at the shining stars on his ceiling than he spoke to her. The tick of the fourteen hour clock that counted his day constantly faded every word she spoke. But when the tired mind overcame the rush of thoughts, the eye joined lids. Six hours hence, he reopened his eye to brush, to tap the glass, to sweat and to talk (his friend willing to respect his strange sense of listening.)

When days tick in equilibrium, change appears as a distant black dot.

The thought made a friendly visit to his mind. Would his teeth be any whiter with a different stroke? Would a full-glass of water show an exit to his body toxins? While he questioned himself on those, he called his friend to get at least one answer. Would you have been closer to me if I listened to you with intent? Or would I just seek answers to my questions staring at stars of nothing?

The war brings in potential signs of loss. Loss of oneness or loss of what we have or what we may have. The black dot far away might pick pace, as a big red block.

The He is me. The He is you. He might just be us.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Racing past the point

Mind Over Matter

Must be very hard for you huh, I asked.

Yeah! Think about it. I race on your bike and just before I thought I had her on my track, she jumps the signal and damn! I’m so screwed at home. He said with an angst reddened face.

Oh good Lord! What is even love-at-first-sight? Did you even look at her properly? What if she had freckles or a scar or say a squint? said Lea seated on my right.

Oh sorry. Ark this is Lea. Lea this is Ark. I introduced them both to themselves. Ark, I have to warn you, Lea is one big preacher. She has her opinion on everything in the world. I signaled Ark with a read-between-lines gesture. Ark just frowned. I was glad I could finish my line. With Lea around, the last time my vocal cords processed my entire mind-request was way back in the life where we weren’t friends.

I wish I could draw a few dotted lines connecting my mind to the dialogue-box over my head that said ‘Ark, if only you read my mind!’ I spoke to myself in the head.

Lea continued from where she left off. So Ark, this whole seeing-the-girl thing, isn’t it complex? Oh c’mon, you don’t even know where she’s going. Do you even have a clue about the best damn thing in her? She pitied Ark. Lea, I read a lot about the extra-terrestrial influence on a human-being. The moment I saw her take my bike, I thought she must be ‘the one’. She must be a person with a vision. A person who wants to do what she really wanted all her life. Think about how desperate she is. To jump a signal just to go get...something..? She might well know how serious the consequences could be. Ark responded.

So your parapsychology taught you that jumping a signal insinuates that the person is a visionary? She can easily be a stupid person who fears a ticket for having raced past the signal. You wish to end up with a girl with a crooked sense of thought? Lea retorted.

Well! fast-paced love for a fast-paced life. Ark re-retorted.

While Lea excused us for a minute to take her phone call, Ark said, Dude that is one seriously interesting girl you have with you. That was fun. To think of having a discussion while playing with a person’s strength or weakness….ok weakness…?.is fantastic to get past crappy mood.

Guys, I have to take leave. Ark, looks like the girl did seem like sending you a message like those ESP freaks do. Lea left.

So, a ticket that will be heavy on your pocket! I should never have told Anita about the new book in store. I said. Yeah! Anita is so done for good for nipping my bike. And yes, you go screw...and have fun with Lea for being a darned listener. I mentioned ‘my bike’ in my little paranormal talk and she never noticed!

Gotcha.


Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Singular.


The Singularity Phenomenon.Unexplained.


He woke up this morning after a sleep of jitters. He rubbed his eyes and his fingers and eyes twitched. He had nothing to do during the day and his to-do book was empty. Again. It was 8 am.

He browsed and found nothing. His news feeds read more about the air plane crash and racist attacks besides some shocking sports headlines. There was an unusual silence in the atmosphere. He wondered why the birds still chirped. It looked like a sunny pleasant day with the dry sands luring those on the road to go on a long trip after a quiet spell of overnight rain. After a quick shower and a spray of Axe temptations, he walked out, for just a walk. He was still dazed by his sleep, something he couldn’t discern.

Moments later, he saw himself seated beside an elderly man in a city bus. My memory is weaker than ever. I begin to forget things. Is this the bus that goes to The Avenue? he asked.

The Sun, unfortunately, was beating down and the day wasn’t pleasant anymore. Perhaps, it was a matter of going out on the wrong day or perhaps it was just an expectation that fell/felt out of place. We are too late for lunch sir. It is beyond time. Can you spare some extra change for a snack? The guy at the juice counter asked him handing him a glassful of lemonade.

He was given a token and it read ‘J100’ and he was indeed the hundredth person in the long queue at The Avenue. Having skipped lunch, exhaustion began to take control. Are we ever going to see the director today? I’m tired and hungry and I am drained. Not just today but this is everyday . The R word sunk the world. 100 to one job. What are the odds! Said the man in a brown suit. It was 4pm.

With a copy of ‘Coffee Tales’ in his hand, he quietly sipped his mug of coffee. She left you didn’t she? Tough, ain’t it? Said a young girl seated next to his table. It was 7pm.

Yet another fruitless day, only time beckons.

He put his book, We Are Not Alone, down to get some sleep. It was 2am.

Monday, May 18, 2009

keep Gaussing

Gazing at Gaussian

That is one year less than one-quarter of a man’s theoretical lifetime; he said when someone told him that he’s turned twenty-four. I mean every degree from our pie is being eaten away and what are we! he envisaged.

The doctor slapped me thrice when my mom gave birth to me. I don’t have that memory but I have learned that that was done to encourage the baby to breathe. The baby is upside down when that is done and that is one serious smack on the ass. Funny it may sound but that is a medical technique. Or is it not? While I ponder all this, I begin to think how funnily life begins. And by an amazing act of God or Science which goes beyond any explanation, we begin to grow. The brain begins to think and to store. But it takes a ‘blow’ to erase all that. By any normal human standards of growth, we do not store anything that happens between the ages of one and three. I can recollect events since the age of four. I visualize, I sense and I feel. As a grownup, we see babies have testing tools such as the sleep and tears. Yes, there’s the mouth that is the biggest tool. How many arbit things have been tested this way: the saliva test. We did it too. And I know not why this happens. I wonder. I looked at three year old kid cover himself with a blanket to beat the cold. And how did he know that? Don’t tell me it is just observation in two years. Anyway, my crappy observations aside, ten to fifteen years go in growth. And life begins to walk the line. But troubled years begin. But joyous years begin. Two ‘but’s or let me just say a mix begins. Grow while you grow or deny yourself while you grow. But it has the hugest impact on the couple of years to come. The bad cannot be undone. The good can be done with more. So as I draw a curve with all the events that have happened, I would say there is a rise in…like..on the Y-axis. Not linear but a curvish growth, for all the ups and downs. For the remaining part, what I call as the aftermath of the first twenty years, I would like the curve to come down, the same way it raised. Isn’t this a popular belief: nothing stays at the top and that that has to come down. The sooner I see the down, the faster I try to get it up. So there is a bearing on the days to come, to fight the future, for the curve is like a bell.

Hmmm. I was on the rise last year with some memorable moments but this year I am walking down the curve. How quickly everything changes! I begin to think what fraction of life that got divided with this. I have put in the sanity for, say, six years, to see the insane events that could well last for a few months. I am searching for intervals to divide my curve. I know I got a bell. What am I at this point? And how much is left? Aah, if only I had the power of prediction!

He penned all this. I walked in to his room and happened to read what he had written. In a sleepy whisper he said name it ‘Gaussian Life’.

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Avril.Cinq.

I thought I lost all my blogs posted on my Cognizant internal blogging portal. The posts that were made have not been read by my friends outside Cognizant. This day brings me back those memorable moments. Hence, this post that happened a year ago. F5....

Fairy in the night...of bliss!


I woke up to a thundering sound. Aaah! It completely blew my head off. I buried my head under a fluffy pillow while I begged my ears to disregard the cloudburst. I felt Goosebumps. Sleeping with a bare chest with just a slinky sheet of cloth, on a sultry night after slogging at work on a sweltering day generally keeps the heat away for me. Phew! And now nature called for a day of contrast. I could feel it.

The clock ticked three. As I struggled to pull the blanket back on myself I could see the wings of the fan combating the gusty wind. Yes the little red lamp wasn’t glowing in the dark. The curtains swooshed inwards providing a picture of a devil in a white dress flying across the room. For my vision cropped by sleep, the sight looked nightmarish. “O fairy, O angel, grant me a wish!” I asked her with diminutive mysticism.

“Wake up to see the day…”

It was half past seven and the Sun shone bright. It appeared the hour was oblivious of the hours it followed. How could nature be so rude to time! My wish flitted with the breeze without leaving a ray of hope within me. The fairy left without a trace. Or maybe… I picked up my comb but the air in the room ruffled it giving me the usual scruffy look.

1800hrs: it was raining hard. And I had a bus five miles away waiting to drop me home. Homeland! the place where your dad or mom closes the windows before the curtains scare you. Before the thought of ‘the fairy’ comes to your mind. I waved myself goodbye looking outside the window, the rain inundating the bus-station.

1730hrs: I wonder what drove me to step out in the rain!

I quickly realized seat no.38 wasn’t mine. Never mind, who’s gonna bother looking out in the rain! Who is no.37! For me a journey is always synonymous to sleep unless the nature calls me to admire the beauty of the forest or the hills. I closed my eyes and in no time I was awoken by a mesmerizing little ‘Excuse me…!‘O dear God…’ I exclaimed to myself. My jaw dropped.

It took fairly long for me to take my eyes off her. Clad in a white angelic top, she looked stunning. And as the bus passed a street decked with white lights, she looked no less than a fairy!

There was just silence all along the journey. The bus braked the next morning and while she took her bag to get down, I said ‘Have a lovely birthday!’… she frowned then eventually smiled at me…

I don’t repent overhearing her birthday wish. Thanks to the caller.

As I penned this down that night, the light went off and then the curtains swooshed again…

Posted.Avril.Cinq.

Alternate link: MyParallelWorld.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Juxtapose

Smoky Sweet Scene

The bottlecap tossed high. It was my foot kick of frustration. It was an advice that would have helped my friend for a lifetime. He chose soccer over Tennis as his sport. Tennis has seen legends. So did Soccer! he said. But Tennis is a King's game....

A little kid crossed my path and handed over the bottlecap to me. You know kid, you should play Cricket, I told him. He smiled, then frowned and ran away. These kids are....they are..well.. on a good platform... And they have years to go before they make a choice to choose their kind ofsport. While I continued walking and talking to myself, I noticed fumes coming out of a window. OMG! FIRE!!! there was extreme panic and pain in those crying voices. Four guys along with me tried to break the door open. I rushed in to see a television screen cracked to pieces. Was it switched on? I asked myself. Yeah it was, answered the guy behind me with puffy and sleepy eyes. Dude, what the hell was happening in here? And...and you don't feel the smoke? It chokes me to death. Such things really grind my gears. Naah, my wife and I had a fight about what to watch, Tennis or Soccer. She decided it has to be Tennis. So i decided to kick the ball, crack the tv screen and sleep. And she didn't stop me.. He explained in an extremely patient voice. There was an implicit lesson to cool yourself down when the matter isn't hot. Ok! So where's your wife now? I turned around and asked. People left and the guy hit the sack. It's like nothing happened in here. The anguish died, took less than the duration of the guy's explanation of the 'hap'.

While I blabbered to myself, on a lower level this time, the kid stopped me again and asked Can you get this lid opened for me?

I asked him a favor in return pointing a finger to the house in smoke. Can you tell me where that lady is?..you know..the one staying in that house..

I never got an answer. And it was a Tennis-Ball can that the kid brought to me for help, that later brought a half-smile to my face.

And the other half-smile.......?!?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

BOTDA

Blog Of The Day Award

Well, this comes as a pleasant surprise. My Blog was picked as the Best Blog for March 10th, '09. I have to say it was just hope. A light in my Paradise. Thanks a ton to BOTDA and Bill Austin. Click on the links to view.

Blog Awards Winner

This is a dedication to all the bloggers and aspiring writers.


Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Aftermath

HellBoys

Hell!I was out in a black cloak
with an axe to kill a young bloke.
'There will be blood', I jeered and my face was red,
'There cant' be blood',sneered my head.

With a confused look,at it I gloared.
'Your time has come',thence being roared.
Woosh!came my axe,the air disturbed,
Thud!broke the grave,shards disbursed.

Out he came dressed like me,
I couldn't make out if it was he.
'Hell,man,this is hell',he sung
'here,everybody's death knell had already rung'.

Hell yeah! Now I know my head's curse,
for me now,hell didn't get more worse.
'All right bloke,let us fight',
'For in hell there is no wrong and right'.

Nothing left,None to rue
for I landed here after the slew.

[The post,in itself,isn't meant to be a poem.It rather is a little imaginative narration of an event.]


Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Deuce

Drawing a Parallel

Ron stormed into his room after having witnessed yet another day of raging activity at home. He slammed his bedroom door and buried himself into his pillow. He had been (and is) a victim of emotional torture: personal and familial. On the personal side, it is like every other teenager dealing with misunderstandings in a relationship. But being true to himself, he was furious with God who he largely trusted in.

Karen opened her bedroom door with the faintest of noises after yet another day of silence. There hasn’t been any sound of a word within her living boundaries for a week. She cried to herself silently as she watched her parents go by their work with no human expression. She was a part of an emotionally wrecked family that had long forgotten the expression of emotion. A cold war within the family loomed large. Karen didn’t want to risk her life falling into a relationship with another guy in these circumstances. She never believed in God.

I haven’t been in touch with two of my closest friends, Ron and Karen. Fourteen years passed. When we were nine, we used to ride together on the same bike, going around dashing walls and forcing ourselves to lose control and eventually fall off. Karen used to laugh her guts out when the bike just stood after the consciously planned impact. Ron was all praise for having the most control of the bike. He just smiled. After the little incident that we got used to, Ron’s mom called us in for a snack. Karen remarked his mom shouts when his dad shouts. It feels so sloppy. I love her lemonade though. Goodbye Ron. Goodbye you, she waved with a bright smile. He quietly sipped his lemonade. I faintly heard his dad speak when his mom placed the jar of lemonade with a thud. Tears rolled down his cheek. I whispered a thank you and left.

Today, I understand the reason behind Ron’s moist eyes while he had his glass of lemonade. Today, I understand the reason behind Karen’s remark. Innocent knowledge!

Thanks to Cricinfo. The end comment- hope you had a great time, it’s been terrific entertainment with the six-hitting. Do join us again. This is Ron Fanly signing off… took me to Ron again. Forget the odds of the right Ron Fanly.

Thanks to DHL. The column Business Requirement document v1.0, first review by Karen Heins took me to Karen again. What are the chances!

Karen’s mobile beeped .You won’t believe it’s ‘You’. Hoping to see you. Her nickname ‘you’ for me brought her the much needed smile. Ron’s mobile beeped too. I tried the dash with the bike. I managed to lose control. Why don’t you teach me to hold steady?

It was Karen I met first. She began…

My dad was based in California then. My mom here. Mom’s location was rather static unlike dad’s. Dad kept shuffling places. ‘Live the World’, he used to say. Mom found it tough to manage me by herself. ‘Live in ‘this’ world’ she says. Seven years passed in silence. Mom and dad were far apart. Being with mom while she worked to keep this little world of ours going…without dad, silence just kept getting bigger. She goes, lectures at work, attends seminars, reviews documents and signs them off. No sign of dad and even if there was any, I didn’t get to know. My young years passed in a Lifeless world. And now, dad’s back. He’d forced himself to do that for he stays only at one place …wanting to prove mom a point, the point that goes way beyond any stubborn egoistic knowledge ‘life is where true work is. My true work isn’t here.’ And mom..mom..has another belief ‘God brought us together. World has to be made around it.’ you know…there has been too much of ‘World’ and ‘Belief’, the years are spent sulking this way. I have opted to add to their egoistic and unbelievable clashes of the mind… trying to do a mix of both. And now at an age of being with a guy to share my thoughts, I beg to differ with them. It makes me want to take that step back. The sun set and the night just began to look beautiful.

I planned a moonlit dinner with Ron. He took a sip of lemon soda and began…

My dad had warned my mom about his passion for cricket before they got married. He played for his county and he forgets the world around him when a match is on. His adrenaline rush is always on the high and it occasionally affected his human expression of emotion...I hope you understand what I mean... and mom, being a writer, used to keep to herself in the initial years. My dad has been a fan of hers, plots of romance and often involving a divorce in her story line…female dominance more than feminism. With passage of time and work load taking the toll, dad’s passion slipped and also took the rush away with it. He realized real expression loses the right meaning when excessive passion or obsession slips out into the real world… on the flip side, this realization has sowed the seed of suspicion. Suspicion that is baseless. He feels real life incidents inspire great novels like a legend inspires a young one. She has written novels for years now and my dad fears this success of hers would change her mind...he fears they will end up divorced. My mother lives in her own novel world trying to make stories, trying to push herself to go beyond the limits of fame. Fear in silence grew into fear in argument, arguing for the very purpose of life. For dad it has been a passion that had to be killed. And while that took time to die, a new passion began to take life within my mom…. giving rise to another obsession. They are so alike but the likes have come years apart. It has only destroyed their ways of thought. You know… I am tired of being part of this nonsensical world of living… Not until my mom retires from writing and my dad stops worrying for all the wrong reasons. I just pray to see this phase off. I hope this is just a phase…! I sensed his tone. The moon shone bright.

I wasn’t sure if Karen and Ron had managed to keep in touch but I gave Karen a call. For Karen and Ron too, this was the first meeting in fourteen years. Little did I know that it would take so long to know how life still remained the same since the whispering thank you.

Still at deuce…


[This post had long been in the making.Took some time off to finish it today.There will be another story in the near future, not in this genre though.]