Saturday, September 11, 2010

Why so light?

Won't be long before I drift into my today's sleep; 0830 in the morning. Being irresponsible with your schedule is exciting; Juhu beach is exciting at dawn as well; so is Shruti's company. Already having come a full circle, rest of my waking hours would be spent trying to catch sleep; hard luck for me that life has such abundance to offer and yet we have to steal everything, including sleep, including our own expression. I also have this entity called 'office' where I'm supposed to spend time and get rich.

Mumbai is a crazy city. By the time - 0700 - we were on our way back from the beach, the traffic had swelled to an extent that it seemed no different from 0900. There were cops about, sneaking about traffic signals, writing a new chapter in the Indian history of corruption - its INR 50 for jumping light, 100 for no license, and 200 for no legal proof of owning the bike. I was miffed by the noise of traffic constituting my dawn, a day that had begun so serenely.

Rewinding back, this morning I woke up at 0540 with a tingling sensation all over the body. I had only an hour's sleep, and the jumps were still pumping through me, hence the condition. As usual for the first half of the week, I found myself wondering about the weekend foods that could've got me this stomach upset.
To remind myself, tonight is going to be another night of indulgence - Abhishek's only got this day before his religious dedications restrict him from meat.

// 20100907

Burn my shadow away

Was overcome with an unbearable tide of emotions by this evening. To my luck I could sneak away from the office sans a trace. Wiled time at R-City; then later, dismayed at the find that there existed no Shopper's Stop inside - I had free coupons to feed my materialistic minimality - I immediately employed a rickshaw to get me home. Melancholy took hold through the journey - I walked into my apartment in mere folds of flesh, there was a vacuum inside.

I was reminded of that which a few of my friends confided to me "I wept on many days"; their experience of living by themselves and facing the de-humanizing aspects of their employed roles brought from thoughts into tangible weight of their tears.
Well, keeping the trend going I too tried, but I couldn't - it seemed ridiculous and self-defeating. Had I not forgotten the fact that I was also out of toilet rolls and Maggi, perhaps I'd have bawled.

Archival Diary Entry//20100907

Friday, September 10, 2010

Warming hands by the fire again

My travel log might see some fresh ink soon. My shoes will taste some real soil again. My lungs will breathe in some happy air again. My skin will feel the touch of wild flowers (as I tie on a mountain slope) again, and the numbing sensation of sparkling brook waters will haunt my feet for more days to come. I
have gone malnourished in the hunger for adventure, I have gone mental in the lust for my being with nature. I hope this could give me answers. Sikkim and Bhutan is on the cards, have to fill the boat that will rock those corners, have to make plans.

Ich imagine coming across some travel author who takes me in for her protege.

Marriages are made in heaven

It would not be surprising to see why religion and arranged marriages go well. India is a shining example, a country that boasts of a "religious character". Marriage is a bond between two people. IT takes forever for two to know each other. What better than train them on the same framework, same decition-making guidelines, mo matter how flawed or historically inconsistent they are? Unless somebody can define themselves or sum their living in a word - eg Hindu, Muslim, Christian... - they cannot sell. Selling ourselves is what religion is for. Who cares how well people personally know each other, learn to guess the instinctive side of other's character? When there's a framework that the society (unjustly) rewards you for why be particularly unique, or try to find the perfect soulmate?
"Marriages are made in heaven", when interpreted this way seems logical. We have created a stable framework, supposedly written and ruled by an otherworldly entity that punishes us for a thousand deaths if we break the code. Hence they know those rooted in a religion would not dare break that code; they would not dare anything less (or more) towards a human being by the type of relationship they're in with. Hence a mere background check for criminal record and genetic defeciencies works well. Oh how easy it gets for them. And then they cry about the thousand sins, deviancies that their bile pushes them to.

And that, of course, is the original opposition to an inter-faith marriage. Like getting a Java expert into a C# project. Like pairing an OOP expert with a procedural programming adherent.

Someday my life would find this occurence...
"Sugar, I've always been a PHP guy and you're a VB.NET gal. This cannot work between us."

Monday, September 06, 2010

trouser-gyan

I should rather put this in my other blog, since a 'geek' isn't restricted to the computer domain. So it happened that I savoured content on the construction of trousers in the past hour. It started with the attached description of my newly-purchased trousers: "...cut in flat-front style, custom fit. Sits just below the waist, straight through hip and thigh, with straight leg opening..."
What be flat-front? What be this 'below-the-waist' stuff? Why is it straight through my thighs?

And so my trouser-gyan led me to finding out why my uncle's above-the-waist style of wearing trousers holds such a charm, the purpose of pleats (that isn't always applicable), and the story behind cuffs at the bottom. It led me to suspect my recent purchase; as a result I have decided to do away with the cuffs, trim my waist handles before I could put on these trousers, be more analytical the next time I'm out for another pair, and never iron my trousers the wrong way (which, I have been led to believe, I have been doing since eternity). I might as well have them custom-stitched - back to the days when my father would have those done for me; he would surely be astonished at this profound learning.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

Flying lessons in the morning

It is 8 in the morning and often my day starts much beyond this. But at the present moment, I am well awake, bubbling with thoughts, and feel excited (in its classical literal meaning). Hot water from a soaked towel runs over my left buttock, losing its intensity, yet fulfilling its purpose by the time it breaks into tiny streams that would cascade down the thighs and onto another towel underneath me. I am filled with a relief.

Imagine me a sybarite; but the deviants would probably guess better - I am recovering shortly after having an accident.

Friend: Aur weekend me kya plan hai
me: my wkend started with flying lessons in the morning
*not of the kind you'd expect
Friend: ok
me: ahem, hey, wht'd you infer, btw?
Friend: Inference, I don't know
I would like you to explain
But I have seen you online the whole night
so was a little worried
pyaar to nahi ho gaya na tujhe
me: pyaar ka koi vichaar nahin
Friend: just joking
what are those flying lessons
me: so it happens that my proactive day - another weekend where I woke up to ensure my eternity - started with a 9km walk from my cousin's place to back home, and I got hurled in the air by a bajaj avenger midway
Friend: you mean and accident
* an accident
me: yep, tales of the common man
Friend: kaisa hai be?
what about injuries
I hope it's not serious
me: no, nothing broken. nothing bleeding.
Friend: nice way you put things up
me: my rear took much of the damage
Friend: That's great
me: jeans and shirt torn
Friend: vo sab to thik hai
galti kiski thi
me: both of a swerving autowallah and a speeding biker

But I, like every man, am a being of pure survival. It did not take much time for me to come to senses. Survey of my limbs, survey of the bystanders' reactions to ensure I wasn't bleeding, gathering my sensory impulses to analyse the extent of my injuries, then taking a few deep breaths before breaking into my first words to communicate my disappointment at both the involved parties, then recollecting the spills from my pocket scattered on the road.

Shaqeel, a cab driver that represented the best of humanity at that moment helped to wash my bruised palms, and volunteered to drive me some distance ahead. To his surprise, instead of hinting at an anxiety to get home in haste, I got down by the shores of Powai Lake. "Sit by Powai Lake to catch the sunrise" was on my itinerary, you see.
Alas, the sky was/is too cloudy today. I did enjoy the serenity, nevertheless, my eyes wandering off to the far ends of this lake to imagine a bask of crocodiles somewhere. Then some more listlessly staring-into-the-horizon, I started feeling the boredom and the pain and headed for home. Pain makes for a bad awareness - it sucks you inward, to your core Darwinian impulses, you cannot come up with a metaphysical theory or chart your future.

Now it seems difficult getting back on track with my superhuman fitness routine that would've been starting this evening.