Absurd

You are an absolute disgrace of a human being! What do you do when you are subjected to such a verbal assault? When mirrors are shown with uneasy regularity, your only defense is to shatter those mirrors. Indrajeet was trying to come to terms with what had just hit him.
                                                   There were certain questions about life that had always irked him, simple matters like love, distance, growing up, conforming etc. Hope or optimism always held things together, hope to effect some change and to feel change, being a beneficiary sometimes and an agent at some. Indrajeet pondered on these ideas as he smoked his first cigarette in many days. Quitting was difficult, more so the tribulations of an adult life. The fundamental need of a civilized human being is Self- Respect. Once you compromise on that then what remains is the shattered mirror. Does it really make sense?
                                 Indrajeet didn't want to sound logical, he was tired of being the quintessential no nonsense method guy, now he wanted to let the shattered pieces of glass from the mirror pick themselves up and form another image, without any external influence, without being subjected to the absurdities of a human life and without a hint of compromise. The glasses as much as he wanted were never going to pick themselves up but he had to. He wished he could either turn back the clock or fast forward it as he wanted to escape the present.
The perpetrators of verbal assault deserved their turn, thought Indrajeet, after all they were the reason why he existed. That made things even more complicated and difficult. So Indrajeet being Indrajeet, tried to either evade the barrage of piercing words or offered pithy replies. None of these gave the desired results and did not make any side any happier. The moot question is this: What's the point of so many words when silence was communicating better, what's the point of defense when premature obituaries had already been written & what's the point of this blog post when nothing was asked of it. You stare into the sky pointlessly, you drink tea pointlessly and so you talk pointlessly and endlessly.
                           Problem is with finding reason, absurdity is the foundation of our existence, thought Indrajeet. That we exist because there exists a higher purpose? Life cannot be oversimplified by these narratives of essentialism. We strive too hard to give our lives a perfect shape, like a flawless spotless linen & in the bargain upset what’s core to our existence. Whatever that was going inside Indrajeet’s brain stopped short of Nihilism as he believed in a higher power but not in any established social or moral order. I need to understand it – he said. He resolved to read Camus, Sartre, Kierkegaard and Nietzsche or may be just Camus because absurdity times four would still be absurdity

The Rural Redemption

Clock struck 6.30, Sun was blazing down and it took me a while to come to terms with the amount of light shining at this time in the morning. This day would mark an epoch at least in our lives if not theirs. I was not sure whether I should be happy or sombre about how the day was going to unfold itself. I still went about the morning business nonetheless, there is certain calmness in such repetitive behavior. My wife made sure that I got the right attire keeping in mind the sun and sweat she foresaw. A quick dash to the mirror to fix the hairy issues on my head and I was ready to go. So were my friends who had travelled miles to pick me up en route.

All of us, now seated in the comforts of a car were now worrying about the optimum route, how not to miss the right turns, coordinating such minutiae to appease our corporate trained brains, giving us a misplaced sense of security and confidence. Multiple miles later we reached the village. We were now joined by a scooter borne man to help us navigate through the maze to reach the location where they had fixed the water storage tank.

The tank was sitting pretty and white among the teeming lot of enthusiastic locals who were pleased with the arrival of a new member in their families. No two groups showed the same emotion to us. The young were amused, the elderly visibly grateful, the ladies smiling effervescently greeting us with the customary tilak and coconut. The camera men were kept on their toes, they had probably clicked so many pictures that mere chronological arrangement would make it look like a video. Village heads were happy and shy, they knew it was not enough and a tad too late. Speeches and notes of gratitude were showered generously. They called the entire ceremony ' Satkar', something they would do to honor dignitaries. We probably didn't deserve any of these, but it would have been a social faux pas to completely ignore and override their sentiments. All of us were happy to go through the motions. It still hadn't sunk in, what we had set out to achieve.

An elderly man, aged 70, moved us with his emotional eruption. He grabbed his knees gesturing the long distances that were cut short by our big-small endeavor. I call it small because indeed it was a proverbial drop in the ocean and big because it had big impact on their already impoverished lives. Even though I don't follow Marathi, my eyes were moist, may be communication crossed the language barrier just then. I wanted to hug him but ended up putting my arms around his shoulder under the garb of shooting pictures. It helped to alleviate the seriousness. It was not the moment for that. Water tap was open and the sound of water meeting the vessels filled our ears like music does. Old man was now missing from the scene, I was told by my friends that he almost broke up conversing with them. I wish he hadn't.

There were four such water storage tanks placed intelligently between the talukas so that the benefits were equally distributed. The Satkar program was performed religiously 4 times during our 4 hour stay at the village. We didn't mind their over indulgence. It offered a peek a boo into their genuine hearts. Our moral consciousness touched a different plane altogether feeling inadequate to offer anything in return.

Now there were food and drinks, ready to be served in traditional manner. I am not particularly a fan of eating at dining tables, so I relished it even more today because squatting on legs wasn't such a bad idea after standing under the relentless sun. Masvadi & Bhakri, made delicious by their noble hearts, gentle hands, genuine affection and supreme hospitality. I over ate, partly because they kept insisting and partly because the food was too good to be sacrificed at the altar of urban sophistication. I wanted to gift some money to the cooks who were working tirelessly in a makeshift hut, but decided against it as I was not sure if it could hurt their sensibilities. Now I have mentally accounted for that money to be spent only towards a noble cause.

After one final round of ceremonies where they tied Safa on my head, I thought I should speak up. May be the tying act of an enthusiastic villager shook my mental cords. The conversationist in me spoke things I had never thought I would speak to an audience who were all ears nevertheless. My message was no different to what they had been hearing all day. I somehow managed to speak a couple of sentences about value of education and water preservation in the context of modern times. I hope they live better. I don't know why they should suffer at all and I surely don't know how long would it all continue, but I know for sure that it was a day well spent, in the company of poor people with rich hearts.

The Water Tank

No Water for Old Men

Safa Selfie

Bhakri & Masvadi

Pride

There is little merit in denying the obvious. That's what defines most of us.Pride.
Intuitive reactions to events that are appreciative of our achievements is Pride. Of course some people revel in modesty, but more often than not it is an after thought. Moments of pride may have deceiving effects on normal women and men, for some it is the motivation to achieve anything and everything in life.In the darkness of the nights enveloped routinely around us everyday, I imagine that Sun takes pride in bringing to us the light, without which everything here would come to a standstill. In the loneliness of the nights enveloped routinely around us everyday, memories take pride in bringing to us the shining moments of the past and promise of the future.
Satyam was a conscientious man and every little event in his life affected him, till he discovered Pride. Thinking high of himself always, thinking about the achievements of the long distant past, he could overpower the ordinariness of the present rather soiled by human follies. Battered and bruised otherwise, now he is a picture of vanity and self indulgence. The change is imperceptible, invisible to the naked not so vigilant eyes. He long crossed the line that separated Pride with Vanity.May be he is right, may be he is not. That he now wants to question himself, is not the moot point but the fact that this is an internal battle, that he must fight everyday.The tension between the two selves, the struggle between the morally upright & brutally practical. It is not a wound that a paste can heal, it is a deep cut that pains infinitely though inconspicuous.

The Woman

And I look at it again,
now with new expectations-
then with fresh desires,
now looking for your hair to tell its own story-
then settling with your eyes to take me on a sojourn.

One cannot not like looking at your face,
Beauty they say is a perceptional illusion-
and I completely agree,
The more I know the soul beneath the skin-
The greater I understand the transcendent meaning of being.

Thoughtful, Profound, Loving & Intense,
I am enthused to look at you as the communicator of  beauty-
well nothing is perfect in this world,
& you do not stand outside these parameters of human follies-
more so because at the moment I just want to look at it again.

Did they say your beauty was ephemeral, I am sure it is,
but what's permanent in this world:Man's Death & God's dominance-
Someone said One day Beauty like yours can save the world from wars,
I doubt the hyperbole, I do agree it can give me moments of pure happiness-
& now I experience a  war between the left and right hemispheres of my head.

So I merely look at it again
now with a sense of belonging
then with a bit of distress
because I know I can't get you, not unless God destroys me
& creates me one more time, so I can look at you again, now ............

Moved by Extraordinariness

Some of the best moments in lives are those that shake you completely. The ability to get moved is a function of one's threshold sensitivity index but however stoic one may become, there are some moments that do touch you.

Reading a book had a momentary profound effect on my mind, so much so that I felt my head was seized by the power of those thoughts hammering it down to the last nerve of my brain. It went into a tailspin and there were beads of sweat on my forehead. The words though translated from the original work suspended tauntingly in front of my eyes. My inaction was feeding into the dramatic moments. Its tragic that I found my way into the slumber lanes as prolonging the tension seemed inappropriate to my inadequate mind.

Inspired by the virtues of structured thinking and overcome by the overconfidence on analytical abilities of human mind, I thought what could have been the reason behind it? Well, actually I don't know, but I do know that solitude breeds thinking. The author Kafka, surely has the ability to disturb the reader to the point that one may find him repulsive , albeit this time I found him absolutely truthful...!

Trivial

Sometimes I feel I have nothing to write, nothing new to tell, in fact I am reminded of Shakespeare's "Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" How can I write about something that means well nothing at the end of the day, or even during the day ? Before being dragged into the debate that such is life and one must be ready to live through this, I object and my objection should be sustained. 

My first argument to this point is that I never wanted life, You know what I mean. I had never requested for it. Here I am born, Bam ! There was no petition, no request, no entreaty, I was brought to this earth without my consent and now I am given lectures to put up with this. How absurd and twisted logic can that be ? So if I am not ready to brave it, I think I have a point. One can draw parallel of my predicament with the tragedy of a child who is made to study and write exams for papers he never registered for by himself !

My second cent on this, I think Pain is over-glorified  All those romanticizing pain should remember that if given a chance they would abandon pain without batting an eyelid, if given a chance to live simply and happily, they would. So the convoluted logic of experiencing both the ends, humility and et al is nothing but product of ordinary minds being thrust upon the entire mankind, pretty much in the similar way television ads are forced upon us in between the over breaks during the game of cricket. The point is that I don't want to know what the hell is pain. In fact all I want to know is just one state of life, only one condition, eternal and ephemeral, one that is fulfilling and satisfying, one that never changes just due to the vile intention of teaching me a lesson.

Lastly on the matter of death. I don't want to die, like most of us , I want to live forever like a young man, but this is asking too much from God, someone who has enjoyed immortality and eternity. Talk of selflessness and sacrifice, why are they only applied to us, poor mere mortals, brittle and fickle, time bound and age-restricted ? I guess someone enjoys our ageing and death, someone who has watched all of us from up there in the sky but he won't reveal himself, because his existence rests on myth. Fact is that it is difficult to comprehend why he hasn't acted if he could have, well if he couldn't because he cannot then he is not GOD and if he couldn't though he could, then he is HUMAN, way too human to teach me a lesson all the 

time.

A lot needs to be done, a lot needs to be said and a lot needs to be understood, I must change with the times, well so should God and his ways. For starters, lets have an entrance examination to usher into the Kingdom of Earth and by the way I hate exams...

Window

Several years ago, sifting wheat from the chaff, moments that represented waiting on someone was watching the window. Inevitably the effort paid rich rewards as it wasn’t an empty wait, ammi would return from grocery shopping with few chocolates, papa would return with a cricket bat and the likes. The act of window watching in spite of its seemingly boring undertones was selfish and very childish to say the least. Fast forward the clock to the mayhem days of youth; window watching was dedicated to the act of waiting on love interests. Through the windows I could see the girl waiting for her love interest to arrive and chew the proverbial fat. This was often followed with promises of meeting in the colony park so the conversation could be more private and yet clandestine. But the very act of window watching was sufficiently debased because it was not the end goal in itself as it was used as a stepping stone to discover more. What still remains noteworthy is the fact that window continued to offer something; though it wasn’t given the best of the treatments (open window is a happy window whereas a closed window feels caged). We can’t forget how on numerous occasions windows had to be shut in the name of privacy, secrecy or infidelity but every time it opened it offered sunshine, rain drops, a view of the world at large and one’s family/friends in particular. Of course we live in a world where non-living beings aren’t exactly selfish. May be that’s beside the point, more importantly till early youth windows definitely had something to offer.

Add a few more years to the body and may be lesser hair on the head window watching still remains a coveted act. I am sure logical mind of the readers of this piece must be asking the question, “and why is it so?”. There is such a thing called nostalgia and then there is a thing called blank thinking, I get that in rich quantity now when I stand by the windows and look outside into the horizon, disrespectful of the high rise buildings obstructing my far reaching gaze. There is a certain novelty in this act of window watching; it is less expectant but more curious, less selfish but more materliastic, less optimistic but more aspirant, highlighting the longest running contradiction in life i.e. life itself.

Different things in a different context have different meanings at different stages of life, but what remains constant is the window. It is still the same always offering something…