prabāt

where the mind is without fear...


Friday, July 29, 2005

the price of triviality

There are times when our seemingly trivial weary routines amid the grinding of everyday life suddenly begin to appear incredibly priceless.

After an extremely tiring and stress filled week-long night-out at work, go home early, have a good dinner, and in the warm silence of home, stand next to your bed. Pause, and gaze at your pillow. And you’ll know the bliss of sleep.

You are seated in a second class coach of a train traveling in the heart of North India in the middle of April, and your train halts for a whole day at a sticky hot remote village due to some snag. After a day’s wait when you finally get home, step into your bathroom. Pause, and look at the bathtub full of water. And you’ll know the rejuvenation of bath.

You are new to a place and staying at a lodging. Next morning you learn it’s a bandh and all hotels and shops are closed. After languishing in hunger for all day, that evening, a lone hotel nearby opens. Walk in, order an idli. Pause, and look at the idli. And you’ll know the value of food.

You crib every morning to your spouse on how he/she doesn’t keep anything where they are meant to be kept and how things go missing because of such carelessness. Let your spouse go on a trip to a far off place for a month. Everything seems to be in its place now. But there’s still a lot of something missing. And you’ll know the sweetness of those mornings.

You eat a 25 rupee South Indian meal every afternoon in your office canteen, and keep ranting on the need for a change of food. And then you happen to go to another country with no sight of rice. After a month of eating sundry foods you finally get to a hotel that serves rice. Order it. Pause, and look at the plate full of rice. And you’ll know the value of those 25 rupee South Indian meals.

How often we take presence for granted and wait for a loss to appreciate the presence! Home wasn’t built in a day!!

posted by Kishore at 8:11 PM   |   |
Tuesday, July 26, 2005

waiting...

I look around
and I pause to see
a tear escape
beneath my bloated eye

My heart skips a beat
as thoughts flutter past
Squeaking stories
of days together
    of days bathing in sun
    and wiping its sweetened smear
    of whispered words
    and the smiles they evoked
    of sensuous strokes
    and their pleasant viles
    of serene silence
    and its inexplicable harmony
    of eternal dreams
    and its sleepless bliss
    of tender tears
    and the soothing hug
    of melancholic voices
    and its divine warmth
    of adoring stares
    and its timeless peace
My heart skips another beat
as a speck of hope flutters past
promising a new fable
of together and forever...

I look around
wiping tears of denial
Praying for the promise
and waiting for your arrival...


posted by Kishore at 7:51 PM   |   |
Sunday, July 24, 2005

Anbe aaruyire...

Naam iruvarum serum samayam
nam kaigalile varum imayam
Naam thottadhu edhuvum amaiyum
idhu anbaal inaindha idhayam
idhu anbaal inaindha idhayam

En anbe.. aaruyire...
en anbe aaruyir neeye
En anbe.. aaruyire...
en anbe aaruyir neeye


[The mighty Himalayas shall be in our hands
the moment we unite
Every fortune shall be with us
For, this is our bond united by love

Oh my dear, my love
Oh my dear, you are my love]

AR Rahman drops a tranquilizer! I’ve been listening to this song from the movie Ah Aah around 50 times already since yesterday. And still counting.

The song begins with a mild melancholic hum Ah Aah... and a low rhythmic beat begins to accompany the hum, slowly giving way to another mild jazz-like metrical blend and the maestro’s heavenly voice carries you to a different world altogether.

The second part of the pallavi, Naam iruvarum... begins with a slightly higher intonation and gradually degenerates into a low tone mixing with the one-man chorus 'En anbe.. aaruyire...' all the while accompanied by the subtle low-grunting rhythm that persists throughout the song.

Rahman’s rendering of the chorus 'En anbe.. aaruyire...' is absolutely astounding! Spellbinding emotions radiate from his mesmerizing voice while he sings out these lines making one feel like going down on his knees, stretching out his arms wide and crying out the lines to his dear with overwhelming tears of ecstasy. And that’s precisely how I’m feeling now!

The bliss of solitude!!

posted by Kishore at 9:15 PM   |   |
Thursday, July 21, 2005

queue and ‘queue’

9.30AM. Monday. I step into a rather small carper-stretch room. A long queue. I am given a token and asked to wait. Number 168. And I patiently wait for the red display screen on top of the hall showing the counter number to show up my number. No respite. The display is dangling on 154. I take a safe seat in a chair right in the middle of the room and minutes after I did, I see atleast 10 more people walking around searching for a place to sit. Not finding one, they make themselves comfortable sitting on the floor.

A spike-haired guy in an oversize brown cargo stretching himself out with a wild yawn, an old gentleman squatting his legs unable to sit straight in one pose for more than a minute, a middle aged extra-obese lady taking a corner of the hall flanked by her 2 kids on either side of her.

The display turns. I slightly turn my eyes hoping to see my number. Still far away. The official at the counter is laughing out loud, probably at some joke that his colleague next counter had told him. And I feel like cursing him left and right for making me wait on an otherwise pleasant monday morning and laughing at jokes from behind the coziness of his counter. And with that helpless feeling, I retreat back to staring my surroundings.

An hour later, I read 168 on the counter display. Prayers do get answered! And I manage to reach office before lunch.

That was the scene at the Social Security office when I went there to apply for my Social Security Number. As I stepped into the carpet stretched floor I couldn’t help but give out a wide grin. Government offices seem the same everywhere, irrespective of which country you are in! Queues. And long waits. May be, the only difference is, if it’s a queue at home, it’s a queue enclosed in quotes here.

posted by Kishore at 8:33 PM   |   |
Monday, July 18, 2005

The Snowqualmine falls

That’s the Snowqualmine falls at the outskirts of the city. I had been there with my roomies this past Sunday. Another wonderful sight of nature. Flanked by a large number of rocks, the tumbling water splashing on them. The droplets channeled by a pleasant whizzing breeze carriying themselves onto our faces rendering a much needed relief from the scorching sun. Yes, the sun scorches in this country too.

It was a cute sight watching a lot of kids play around in the gushing stream of water, drenching themselves all over and their parents shouting them to stay clear of the water or not to go far deep. Parents are the same anywhere in the world, aren’t they! Just beside me a chuweet little boy said to his sister ‘Hey just step on that stone, and then on this, and here, and then jump right here’. For a second I wondered ‘wow, this kid speaks good English’, and in the next fraction I realized that’s his mother tongue. Hmm.. I must remind myself where I am.

Joyous faces all around. A few Indian too. I could see some young Indian couples easing themselves on the rocks. And at a far end of the jumble of rocks and water, far from the tumbling falls and the gushing water, where a few rocks seemed to make what looked like a tiny cave, sat an African-American. He was not admiring the beauty of the falls, neither was he looking at the water gushing past the rocks. Lost in a world of himself.

He was the only black in that place.

posted by Kishore at 8:38 PM   |   |
Friday, July 15, 2005

why are they like this?

Some things I have been noticing since the moment I reached this country.

Invariably, all shopkeepers are always smiling and talking very enthusiastically.
If you are crossing a road and a car is just on your way, the car stops and the driver smiles and nods you to proceed crossing and resumes patiently after you have crossed.
The apartment janitor walks around wishing ‘good morning’ to every stranger who walks by.
When my office shuttle takes me around, the driver always ends with a vociferous, ‘have a good day’ and a large smile.
There is always an air of enthusiasm on most people.

I was wondering why does every person, irrespective of his role or work always looks enthusiastic. Don’t they have any worries? Don’t they ever get sad or moody about something? Don’t they worry about their sick spouse or kid? Don’t they ever miss their dear ones? Are they so professional that they forget the home, family, worries the moment they step into their work? Don't they look forward to a friend or a dear one to comfort them in times of need?

Are they much less emotional than us about things they do? Are they so much self-sufficient irrespective of their work that there are not many things that worry them? Are they not so much fond of family values as us? Are they just filthy rich that they don’t care the heck about anything? Is their higher and sophisticated standards of living anything to do with it?

Another point, a lot of men, seem to have a coarse voice with sounds seeming to emanate from the bottom of their throats. Have noticed this with people from other countries (other than Asia) too. Is it because of the relatively colder weather conditions that the voice chords get manipulated to be coarse?

Any answers?

posted by Kishore at 6:04 PM   |   |
Thursday, July 14, 2005

when emotions play

Expectation. Promise. Longing. Optimism.
Anticipation. Fear. Despair. Hope.

A tiny time-bomb of emotions ticking past every second. Thoughts ripping between extremes of glee and panic. Feelings dangling down on a loose rope, held only by a perpetual knot of hope.

Rationality too seems to be having its limits. Strength of a rational intellect can only go so far, and at some point emotional encumbrance takes its toll.

Days when you begin to crave for the feel of that affectionate stroke on your forehead
When you begin to feel the absence of that heavenly warmth embracing you
When your heart becomes the epicenter of your trembling body
Shuddering thoughts and shivering reactions
When the bliss of a recent past and its harder eventuality deviously encircling your head
When it seems like nine planets playing musical chairs trying to gain a hold on your thinking
When there is a vibrant crowd around you, and you badly need some solitude
Solitude might seem your only friend, but that is the last thing you need now.

At times, face and kinesics are hardly an index of internal turmoil.

Some emotions can’t just be expressed.

posted by Kishore at 10:51 PM   |   |
Monday, July 11, 2005

first sights and sounds

The flight
That was the first of my life. The ascent of the flight made me feel like ascending in a lift. Well, that’s what you call the typical Indian-middle-class mind set. Take him in a Boeing 747 and he would still compare with the lift that takes him to the second floor of the 3-storey building next to his home. Give him a crore rupees, he would still bargain to buy a kilogram of potato.

The country
Haven't seen anything away from the city I'm put up right now. So, no comments.

The city
Clean roads. There are not even people on the road. Ok, I’m exaggerating. So, here goes, there is one human on road for every 100 cars.
Big malls. They have everything you need. And they have so much that there is really no need for smaller shops down the road. And if you know Bangalore, its like going from Shivaji Nagar to Indira Nagar for a cup of coffee.

The people
Hard to find many outside the malls and office. But as such, they have a deep sense of respect for foreigners (that’s me, I’m a foreigner!) especially Indians. And a lot of patience to cope with the different accents.

The food
There is life for vegetarians after all! I tried the only veggie item in the pizza menu and tried eating with a plastic fork and knife like the three American colleagues sitting around me. After a few minutes of acting funny, fooling around with the knife stuck in the pizza slice and trying desperately to hide my histrionics, I gave it up and started using my palm to hold the pizza slice in the most artistic of fashions and took a delicate bite off the thick upper crust with a stance of an amazingly precise handiwork. That felt more like eating!

The feeling
Yeh jo des hai tera, swades hai tera, tujhe hai pukaara…
Yeh woh bandhan hai joh kabhi toot nahin sakta

Mitti ki jho khushboo, thu kaise bhulayega
Thu chaahe kahin jaaye, thu laut ke aayega
Nayi nayi raahon mein, dabi dabi aahon mein
Khoye khoye dilse tere, koyi ye kahega
Yeh jo des hai tera, swades hai tera, tujhe hai pukaara…
Yeh woh bandhan hai joh kabhi toot nahin sakta

And now I understand why Mohan Bhargava missed Gita!

posted by Kishore at 7:31 PM   |   |