This thing called...

There are a lot of aspects that make us 'human'. It has been proved from ages that our race is a unique blend of certain intangible constructs that seem to go our way in the desparate moments and drives our purose to exist and to survive. The list may seem short to some or long to many...to me its just a handful. All these years of my existence has taught me lessons aplenty relentlessly and time and again, its been the hard way. Yes of course, I have fallen, befallen and arose from the depts to take my life head-on and gave back my fullest to not only survive, but to live to fight another day (many of us have been through the same, so be proud of it). People have viewed me in a lot of lenses and have had their room for passing judgments and freezing on perspectives. It has quite internally been a long waging battle of sorts and it has brought me into many lights and shadows. Such has been my battle filled journey with this thing called...Love!

This has been long due and might just be the right moment to rid this off my rustic brains before it decays into something meaningless and far fetched. In fact, the thought process began quite sometime back but fuelled to be penned down just now, thanks to my status message on my social networking hubs and mail accounts...it stated - "Single, Alone and Bored..." and believe it or not, the reactions and comments I recieved was more than any other statement I have ever made or articles in the past that Ive ever written. Strange, but I liked it when people sounded concerned about the status message...and my status. What one must do to get people talking or just turn their heads...such was this attempt and it worked. The perfect spark to fuel this flame. So...here it is!!!

Its a fun filled article and I am not here to script motherhood statements or the Dos or the Donts or leave a bad taste at the end of it all but will try my best to give that grin at the end of the page which both people In and Out of love wouldn't mind...so there goes my disclaimer or a forewarning...

Lets begin with our school days...when we are at our best in imagination, creativity and visualization...this is probably the only phase where we might have a parallel world where reality is a far fetched dream...where Utopian mindsets are bull-shit. No boundaries and no restrictions... which brings me to Phase I - The Good Old Days of Impossible Infatuations. Anyone would agree that all our innocent feelings and expressions were at its peak during this phase of life and I have gone through it all and quite interestingly found a lot of time for it than what I did in my classroom or for the homework. Early romance was primarily influenced by movies and we know how a romantic story and song sequence worked (and dare not anyone deny) with dream sequences which would have running around trees, two flowers coming together, costume changes, close ups et al. Since no one wanted to be serious in this phase, the chances of having multiple crushes or affairs were quite normal and switches were normal (or I'd reckon...) on the cards. Some would be shocked, surprised and flabbergasted but what the hell...what are friends for! The corridor walks, secret talks, eye to eye looks, compliments, cards, calls and what not! I have been through it all (bet many would have)...ups and downs...one sided, two sided, other sided and no sided. But of it all, on a personal note, I was seen as notorious and friends around me at one point of time hated it...this was the phase I made more foes than friends. In truth, I was trying to deal with myself and got more deeper and deeper...with extreme ends at the stick...with good and bad. There were plenty of fights and conflicts because eventually you are not the only person to like another...many hits on the same target...so that meant wars...in and out of the school compounds. And one can now imagine my plight!

Which brings me to Phase II - The Days of Evergreen and Possible Romance. Here I would describe ones college days (both UG and PG). At the brink of adulthood, the vibrance of youthfulness is what drives us to adventure and escapades (in any given form)...license to thrill and be thrilled. Did we even ever care about the rules...hell no! Recklessness and Rebellious made the emotion of Love quite heartless and soulless...Love suddenly became tangible than immortal. Those who crossed this phase were certainly immortalized but those who couldnt cursed the emotion to the pits. This is the stage wher Love is at a make or break stage...and where people either carry their beliefs or dump it to hell. It was in this stage that I carried my belief ahead and despite setbacks and frequent realizations I felt it hard to stay away and see the world thrive its existence on just Love. It was to me, a universal emotion that keeps us human. Severe criticism was drawn and many critics were turning cynical and abysmall at that phase of life and this also gave birth to many philosophers and poets. I couldnt believe that those who were once wrapped around in the arms of love were forcing their ways out and abusing it to death. I chose not to...as simple as that.

Which finally brings me to Phase III - the beauty of reality and what love is and is not. In this phase, we grow up to become serious beings and life shows us a lot of meaning and purpose at this stage. At this point in life, we witness ourselves in a mad rush of work and in all of this madness, we go through further hell...to be honest, the days of a single story is no more valid or relevant at this time. We question the purpose of our actions in the past and mull over an uncertain future...we analyse our mitakes and feel miserable or feel good if the same story is continuing. We search for greener pastures because it is our desire to feel wanted, loved and needed...humans arent we? Who prefers or likes to be ignored and unwanted? It is in this notion that we never give up our quest for love...cynics become hopefuls and even they consider to change their views to remain relevant. Such is the power of this emotion! I might sound cliched or corny throughout but whatever said and done, no one can run away or hide from this emotion...it is powerful and is felt in all phases of life...young or old and in any form! There are many words to describe, sub-genre and what not! It all boils down to something very basic...that makes us all human!

We might witness Innocent victims and evil perpetrators widely display their actions, intentions and consequences...I honeslty think it is the choices that we make that define us. Blame not the emotion...blame oneself for the choices weve made or pat ourselves on the back to have chosen the best. It is only in our dying moments that we choose to realize...cant that realization come at the death of a story? Why wait for an end of a lifetime to know what you could have done to live another day...live another story? Imagine if we gave it another shot...how many more friends would we have met, how many foes would we have done away with! I have met some of the most amazing people in my life and I have had the priveledge of knowing them in person...Ive met them in the toughest of times and certainly in times where I needed them the most.

Somehow in a rough road trip, where people curse the roads, I relatively chose to go along the bumpy roads and break my will, ego and my heart, only to rise again. I havent succeeded yet but Im enjoying the journey so far. Im not giving up yet and I will not till my last breath. Call me a fool or whatever you want to...just cant let go of (funny) this thing called...Love!



Note - The inserted pic is titled "The Poet and the Muse of the Ideal" by Carlos Schwabe (1877 – 1926). He is one of the more disturbing Symbolist artists. He seems to have had an obsession with death (possibly associated with the demise of a close friend when he was 17), and his paintings often contain allegories of suffering. He also displayed an interest in Decadent literature, and the above pic is an illustration painted by Schwabe for Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal. I somehow felt this relevant to the subject I wrote...symbolically!

Symphony of Suspicion...

Home is where the heart is and home is also where the body, mind and soul is. To me, home has been specifically where the body and mind has been. Sometimes, I like the old un-changed residence that I get stuck to it like glue. I guess thats what most of my tormentors call it a comfort zone. I call them jealous but cant help but think about what they actually meant.

I discovered this pattern quite sometime back and Ive learnt how to deal with it...but above all, the awareness of the same was quite an eye opener. The trend is that if Im told to go to any place or travel to a new city or an unfamiliar location, I would internally feel so intimidated, disturbed, scared and curious and what not! Fear and reluctance would be written so invisibly but for acceptance sake, I would talk myself into it and make it happen. But first Id feel like some evil force has entered my body and is shaking it up like a blender...inside out. I feel like puking and Id suddenly lose my voice or my ability to move my feet. All sorts of non-sensical scenes would come to my mind.

Since most travel schedules were morning flights or night trains, Id have to tag along with my bosses or at times by my own...and that would mean wake hours before schedule so that I dont miss my departure schedule! That would set the tone of the entire journey! My first step of suspicion would begin with my trust of my own timings! Often I would succeed and with the help of my dad, Id beat time...not before I doubt my own abilities! Thats how I actually got myself into doing a lot of self-talk and self-you-can-do-it talking!

Things wouldn't stop there wouldn't they! Once I landed or arrived at any new location, Id always ask every alternate shop, auto driver, bus driver and conductor, citizen and even kids who would know the locality inside out. The best part would be that they would all give me the same and right answers to my redundatn questions often but I would relentlessly pursue to ask more people again in a feeling that Im being duped. Evil or mean you may call it, such was the extent of my suspicion in a new place. My luggage would be stuck to me like glue with my hands doing a frequent frisking to check if every necessary item was in place. I wouldn't spare checking my pocket belongings too for every 5 - 10 minutes. If the place I went to had a language problem, the time interval of checking would be worse...say close to every 2 minutes.

New routes on the bus / cab / auto was another killer! Id have to act as a spy noting every area name and route (a habit Ive developed after watching numerous spy and espionage movies) and mentally or visually memorize the routes. The fear of being lost or confused would keep me in a grim mood and wouldn't let me enjoy the sights. Unpronounceable, Illegible and what not, if the names were not in my terms of clarity or safety, my walking speed and heart beat would match an Usain Bolt's clocking speed on track. Well, no one quite understood why all this happenned...I had to get to the bottom of this issue someday and I actually did! i took me a few minutes and a few memories to grapple with in order to bring some sanity in this madness! To go to the roots of this all, I would narrate 2 incidents that influenced me or rather that inspired me to think this way.

I once was with my parents in a monsterous shopping center in Kuwait and amidst the maddening crowd, I was holding their hands and I was about 6 - 7 years old at that time. In a snap of a moment amidst the turbulent crowd, I was separated from my parents and was literally pushed aside and I lost sight of them. Like being thrown around and circled by, I lost my direction and the location point at where I lost my parents. I ran as fast as I could and at the same rate, my tears were pouring out like never before. I was stuck in a mall which was one of the biggest in the country and I dint know the language nor the locality nor the people. I ran from pillar to post sobbing calling out mom n dad and peeping into each shop to see if I could sight them...but couldn't do so...for about 20 minutes. After almost losing every inch of hope, I entered my favorite store thinking the toys would give me some solace...and to my relief...it did. I found them there...checking out some new Transformers toys which they promised to buy me that day...and I found them at the place which intuitively called me there. I went in running and hugged them both and told them that I almost lost them...much to my surprise, they dint even realize that this all happened because they themselves were awed by the toy store and its new toys which they wanted to buy for me...well...now you can imagine how I freaked out! All was well after that...

The 2nd instance is more fictional but close to what can happen in a war time. Note - 1990-91 was when the first Gulf War had taken place and evacuations were aplenty (a story I will narrate later). I was watching this WWII movie by Speilberg called Empire of the Sun where a young Christian Bale gets separated from his parents and ends up in a Japanese POW Camp and undergoes all the trials and tribulations of a troubled and lost boy. The scenes from the movie were then etched in my mind forever because the war in Kuwait was getting worse by the day and the curfews dint help either. Every time my dad or mom walked out to the stores, I was never sure if they would ever return. Such has been my childhood times and now one can imagine why I feel so when caution is thrown in the winds...quite literally!

When all of this culminates, it sounds like a raucous symphony from all directions, amplified with multiple overtures, motifs et al. that blares my life out in all directions and it is in that moment when I think of home as a safe haven. Known is always limited but the unknown is what at times mystifies me but cautions me. In recent times, Ive been able to do a lot of self-pushing and self-talk and moreover its now more of a conversation. I deal with my own suspicions and have begun to trust the world as it comes by and not rely on my past. If it wasn't for that effort, I wouldn't have visited some major and minor places on the map (with a lot more places on my map to go to).

The dawn of realization actually came to a symphonic climax when after 17 long years after my evacuation from Kuwait in 1991, I made my first overseas trip to Hong Kong. It felt special but again curious of what was to come. When we took off that evening...the only thing I saw was the inviting skies and a carpeted welcome by the musing clouds. I felt I was a part of the skies that engulfed all my doubts...yes, I had grown up then but the child in me was still alive and kicking (which it still does till date...even as I type this). The only way I would have initially felt was to go down or straight up...at that given moment, after a series of thoughtful image filled memory passed my vicinity, I actually felt that the flight was heading nowhere else but straight ahead. It was then that I was done with my symphony of suspicion...It played for so long...and I laid it to rest, forever!

Nail the Enigma...III

Yet another attempt to bring myself to the realms of a poetic comeback. Lets see if you can figure this one out...

Orchestrated by pounding insrtumentation
Scripted from ages and performed till day
Staged to set free ones arrested emotions
Feet are hurting but in pain you must sway...

Let me know if you can nail this enigma...remember, you need not be accurate! Make sure you stretch your imagination and see what you can discover in these lines...the closer you get, the better it is...but you are most welcome with extremes!

Till the next cut is delivered...happy reading!

Air Raid Bombing!

A fine monday morning...fresh breath, Brushed teeth, clean shaven, neatly combed, formally dressed and polished shoes...an executive gets ready for a busy week and this happens to be an important week for him as a lot of ideas would get signed off and he would be meeting the top guys in the company. Warm weather with the advent of the Southern Winter...chirping birds and racing squirrels...songs from the radio and resounding chores from every door...the world is as it should be for him...a peaceful monday morning. It is then he realizes that it is too peaceful than usual...an unusual silent and smooth going so far...he shirks it aside wondering perfections was'nt bad at all!

Off to the parking and the vehicle starts with the first kick...surprising but pleasing...brings a wide smile on his face...it couldnt have got better, he thinks! He plays a soft number in his ears for a change hoping for a smoother ride with a pleasant sight...and exits his apartment with no hassles, waving goodbye to his loving mother, grandparents and his dad...but unusual of all of them to be at the balcony at the same time waving goodbye...he dint mind that at all...he rides away to work.

The first signal he encounters, turns green without him having to hit the brakes or wait for a few seconds...day is getting better by the minute. He now begins to pray (which he usually doesnt) to keep the good times coming...overtakes many vehicles that actually give him way to go ahead...all of them budge aside! Even the beast like bus hustles aside to let him go...his smile gets wider and wider...makes his way and speeds his way up on the city's biggest and busiest roads.

A point comes where the entire traffic keeps right on the broad road and our protagonist is on top of his journey so far imagining that the whole world was making way for the king. What follows in the next few scenes is unthinkable...

The entire stretch of the road is tree-less except for this lone patch with one monstrous tree lurking out from one of the office building premises into the road towards which the traffic on that day wasnt willing to venture into. Our man today on seeing the world-wide gap to cross everyone to go ahead races into the unwilling patch of road and then....it turns into a war-zone!!!

A formal shirt turns into an army fatigue with polka dotted multi colored shots from the tree top...from sunshine to the shade, the hero now feels all the droppings like a shower of rain but indeed it isnt...its an air-raid of the antagonist(s) who have been waiting for their victim for all this time. Clad in black and wailing in code-words the enemies drop a series of foul-smelling, double colored, semi-solid, hard hitting and well aimed morning-formalities based droppings on our hero, beginning the end of his dream-run!

His smile turns into a sigh, his song turns to abuse and his hopes turns into despair...and he now wonders the build up to such a disaster / tragedy / misfortune / catastrophy (choose the best from the options)...the chain of events...it was all meant to be! He was bait and fell prey...when had a monday morning been so pleasant in his life! And he fell for it...and that too on a monday! People whom he overtook now had their last laugh and in retrospect sighed in relief. What a war can do...especially with a low-range air-raid bombing...especially on a monday morning!

By now you know who the protagonist and the antagonist of the narrative were...it is indeed a true story and one of many to ever happened to each and everyones life. So please stop laughing at me and remember your days of being bombed in your unusual and usual places and times and have a good laugh on yourself and your friends...its the best way to beat these darn crows...

The Rise of the Underground

I was reading an interesting article on WWII where many nations were torn apart, their governments were brought down, history and culture was destroyed, architecture & monuments were razed and what not (the same being mentioned in our history books from start to end...with pictures to back them all up). Such moments in any country's history does breed a lot of hatred and rage that the generation had witnesses and over a period of time, most of it all, culminates into something significant and tangible. This is not a history lesson but 'history' itself in the light of realism...

The concept of "The Underground" literally symbolises a movement or a resistance which is not visible on the surface of any ruling body. This is no book or a refered definition, but an interpretation of my perspective. When I was reading about the Polish Underground State on Wikipedia, what struck me the hardest was that even in dire times like war, was how just a group of individuals could make the biggest difference to their country in the best possible way. When the Germans were on their Blitzkreig mission, they were razing various cities to the ground and that included buildings, museums, schools, churches, books, artifacts, monuments and most importantly...people and their families. At the heart of it all...the roots and the culture was on the verge of a downfall which would have taken centuries to build and establish.

In such critical times, a few inspired (rather enraged) individuals collectively joined hands to survive the ordeal and literally moved into underground makeshift bunkers and corridors. They would help the other survivors move in and would collect all bare necessities and basics to survive the war and the extreme weather. The main intent of creating such bunkers is to evade crossfire and air-raids that bombed cities in pockets. As one can imagine, not all survived it all and not everyone could fit in the bunkers amidst the chaos. It was also used to survive the bitter and cruel winters.

Interestingly, in such movements, there was always an assumed or a looked-up-to leader who would involuntarily take charge but in many cases, democracy was practiced and many people chose their leaders. Under many a leader, these movements and messages would spread rapidly and many revolts and attacks would be carried out on a strategic basis and results were quick and hard fought. That was the strength of an underground movement. Imagine how many lives have been lost and found in such struggles in any given critical moment in a country and its countrymen's lives!

This concept of an underground has spread to many fields and understandably so...the acceptance of the culture openly has resulted in certain Devil's Rejects to find shelter in places away from critics and have a sanctum of their own...by virtue of The Underground. Be it music, art, dance, poetry, technology, religion, sport etc. Whatever has been written off by critics across has certainly gained what the term is called 'Cult Status'. According to me, the world chooses to see what it wants and conveniently dethrones what it cannot withstand or which it cannot call a contemporary or a people-favorite. In the name of business, many a natural talent has been swept to the underground...in the fear of elimination of what already is and has been doing well in their fields.

According to me, if it wasnt for narrow minds, this underground wouldnt have existed. I try to reason this by asking myself, why do human beings become rebels...because in dire times when survival is a matter of life and death, what does one do when the rope is too tight around the neck? Well the answer is simple...do whatever it takes to be free...and live to fight another day! According to me, it is the attitude of this-is-right-this-is-wrong rule setters who create the underground! Let it be...leave them be...Nothing is ours....it will never be...we were born empty handed and we will die empty handed...why write rules and create a rebel in the youth that ends up deep down in underground movements....frustrated and traumatised!

Enough of the rambling...as one can notice...I myself have had a taste of such feelings and though I havent been a part of any underground movements, with the current state of things in our country, I feel one day I will eventually become a part of one. But the best part of todays underground is that they are not afraid...they are fearless and do not hesitate to express their intent. Which is why slowly, certain underground movements have come in the open and is now more visible than ever. Nevertheless, they are but still an integral part of the Underground movement.

But here is the deal...now we are out in the open and we are changing the world for good...the youth of today are on a mission and this according to me is the single biggest underground movement in this history of this planet! This is getting bigger than any living or dead governments and will one day overthrow all written rules and regulations to make this a free world...where there will be no crime, no loopholes, no corruption, no rapes, no murders, no wars, no genocide, no religion, no enemies and no fear (one can add to this wish-list).

It is on that day when those who criticized the world, will need to take shelter from the underground and will eventually have to let them re-write the pages of history. These are certain dark times where heroes arise from the darkest corners to bring light to those who deserve peace and justice ( I know I sound as corny as one can get but what the hell). It is in such times I wait and long for a hero/heroine...who will end all foulness, destroy confusion, destroyer darkness and annihilate ignorance. Does the name 'Kalki' ring a bell?

In all of this, I might receive opposing views and reviews on how Ive positioned this article but does it matter when we there is a living hell that openly slumbers in the belly of the beast?. If we dont deal with this, then what they have accumulated as so called wealth and power will push us to the depths of misery. I am no evangelist, but here I am...calling to all the young and free spirits from the Underground...arise and come to the open and let us all join hands to bring this rusting and decaying world by coloring it right and rescue it from its own downfall...let it not be the fall of another Roman Empire...

PS - All the text written and mentioned above is not directed towards any specific group or movement that exists. This is purely a personal perspective and does not contain any hidden or mis-directed message. However, if one still feels so, then I seriously think that you belong to the government or to the ones they call critics! Have a nice day...