Last flight of music

The day he sat. Wondering about life. In such simple terms an understatement unknown to him as he mingled in the crowd of reasons. And of music that was mesmerized both with romance and sustaining dreams sinking into horizon of reality and desire.

It was a crazy night.

It was a crazy night. She told me, she would call up. I have been waiting now, for like ages. Trying to keep my anxiety and anger at bay. Once you let excitement and fear creep in, they just take the grip of your life, in an unusual, choking way. Making you insecure and afraid and always on the toe with the thoughts and imagination preoccupied with worries. We live in that sort of the world. So I am trying my best to keep the other wise dark curious thoughts about time at safe distance. It’s a pace, I cannot keep up with, and I wish it would stay still. But, I know, it has a slithering speed.

There is an occasional burst of over excited questions, which spring up in the head. Just the like sudden rise and rustling of the curtains as the wind unexpectedly makes its way into the room.

“We are floating like winds”, he had said. Remembering those words brings smile to my face. It was a cold and chilling night. When I look back at it now, I guess death circled that night making wheezing sounds through the rustling leaves and the cracks of the old decrepit wooden door. The door, that emptiness of the room, the silence temporarily for a short while enveloped us together. It is probably the context of the situation, that immortalizes the words, the scene. We can’t remember the faces but the memory remains imbued in its gray shade.

Well how good are the memories there worth. Just a notion of what is past. A whimsical figment of imagination that remains imbued into time. Like trail of life’s presence, to define the course of journey and the abstractness of time. Like a face, chasing its form into a mirror. Existing for no other reason but only to define value attached to the worth of a moment.

But there has to be plot in the theater. And there has to be silence in the words. Even the winds and the oceans and the dreams shall gently come to rest. And the motion shall seize to exist into pristine purity of silence and darkness. In perfect stillness and in peace the earth shall stand. For one moment, desire shall gasp a lonely wish and the moment shall sink into the past.

And he wrote a few notes, words sneaking to the underbelly of seduction. One towards death.

Two men and a movie

Movie about a real life scenario.

A: That’s really some art.

B:What?

A: Its an art to portray a life in such crafted manner. I say, nice movie, great talent.

B: Hmm. I see. Yup, great movie.

A: Don’t you think it’s a talent to make such a movie. Don’t you think, that it’s a skillful art.

B: I guess, that’s too much into it. It’s a nice plot, good acting, and innovative technicalities, refined nitty-gritty, formed into a nice movie.

A: Ok. What do all these people feel when the watch movie, some cry, some laugh, some even find inspiration, or dejection, some form opinions, dialogue on counter opinions. Isn’t it an art to stir a soul..if there is something within you, to stimulate ones senses.

B: yeah dude, that’s some talent. Brilliant skills. Ha!

A: Why is it that movies, music disturbs emotions or sensitizes a person. Isn’t that in a movie theater one discovers more human emotions than in reality ?. Is it that in isolation and darkness, one accepts the emotions which otherwise one is cautious about.

B: Whats up man?. Well, That’s the magic of movies and music.

A: You sound so cold, as though, you mean nothing changes in the world with such forms of creativity and dialogue, no inspiration to be taken from movies, no stories, no idols, no music…as though all that is a waste?

B: Its only magic dude, all this is a magic, it sounds like that , it feel s like magic, but those inspiration, desires and those heightened sensations ..that’s all temporary, fickle and impermanent ...a phase…and thee moral of the story: That’s all entertainment. And it too is an industry. So what’s food for thought for few, is bread-butter some and Of course, glamour, glitterati, and fame for others, some one like me. That’s the irony.

Whisper, into my ears

words of despair

tale of a parting lover

holding broken strands

stitching moments together

left for time to repair

my girl, its not a love song

he just told me, he doesn't care

my girl, its been long

long enough to feel you near

sing to me, touch my heart,

I don't remember, but a secret wish

to go cold, with a bleeding scar

they are for a reason,

he told me,

like lingering past,

Another sweet memory

my girl, just hold on

he told me, hes scared

my girl, he ain't coming along

letters on the floor now fly bare

Feather

So I set my imagination fly,
instructing left brain be free and high,
let the clouds burst wide open
And a feather float from the sky,
doesn't matter even if it takes a nose dive.

Swim for a moment in the stillness,
over this cold empty thin air.
Laugh and wish for those
who couldn't be here
fleeting colors in the crystal maze
like smiling moments in a heart ache.

let it sing through mist and hue,
for caressing cold breeze bathing you.
under silent starry night
float behind a longing stretched,
till the never ending deserted road
dance for a while in your fizzling tender mold

let it fly with your secrets,
a veiled beauty behind the fog.
to unknown prayer, before the flickering flame,
trying to rise above gravity,
for heart felt song.

Can you feel the pricking velveteen,
of the souls skin,
bordering the unconscious realms.
As the feather dips,
tracing beads over these strings
and smears itself into blue ink.

P.S Laying there in the bottle
into the soft stillness of the night
flying it drops
as lofty imagination sets to write.

A bizzare trail.Hmm.Maybe tale.

One late night, I was at the my seniors dorm room. Known as one of the most stingy rooms, with papers, books, wires, gadgets, shoes and toothpaste resting on floor. While, he was on one side of the cot, resting by his guitar. I was on the chair and in front of me, some how squeezed amongst the papers, pens, books, table lamp, speakers rested his laptop. The room was dimly lit and I was there listening to Pink Floyd blaring from the tape. So I clicked Ctrl-Alt-Delete and the screen prompted me the password. The slight beep, slightly awakened him and casually brought him to realization of another living presence in the room, apart from the cock roaches and lizards.

Me: “ What s the password? “.

He smiled and said, “ I’ll give you three clues. Take a guess.”

For a while I thought, rascals so freaky even in his sleep.

Him: “ It’s the first name of Indian Actress.”

( Pause )

Him: “ The world runs on it. “

( Pause )

Me: “ Hope ? “

He smiled.

I guess I was brilliant then. One of those moments when my self-esteem rocketed sky-high. And I must say, the trivia, that dimly lit night and the answer, has remained with me for a long time now, literally, like a haunting Blues Nightmare. The answer was right, but deep down still sounded incomplete.

So me and a close friend, one day harped on another concept while on our frivolous chatting sessions on net.

Me: “ Tell me what runs the world. “

( typing a reply )

Him: “ Hunger”

Me; “ Precisely”

Then again there was one destined evening, I was walking with a beautiful chick ( who I knew was going around with my friend). So there was cool breeze blowing and it was a wee bit romantic atmosphere and we were taking a brisk stroll.

As usual, I went ashtray with winds and started with my series of serious inquisitiviness for stupid questions and I went ahead asked her, as a matter of fact, “ Tell me, just like that, what do you think runs the world.”

She: Love.

Me: Don’t you think it’s a bit shallow. I thought it was hope and hunger.

She: Is it shallow?. I thought a lot got written and sung all to dig deeper into it. And in a broader sense there are many kinds of it and in some ways, I think Love constitutes both- hope and hunger.

Me: Yeah. May be. ( reflecting now, I think, women have this talent, of shaking up your confidence and an sweeping self confidence to silence any argument.)

Or, May be, sometimes I think, I could have missed out the story that could lie behind her eyes and her experience.

Then the other day, I was this little kid. We were sitting in a garden. She fiddling with some book and me watching over her shoulder. During our conversation, I asked her

Me: “ Okay, kiddo. Tell me what runs the world?”

She, looked at me puzzlingly, then contemplatively into her thoughts and I wondered about curiosity taking shape.

She: “ I don’t know. You tell.”

Me: “ Common. Take a guess “ ( half expecting reply of some silly science)

She: God, may be.

( Sighs. Kid?!. Silence).

So I glanced on the road side. There was this, old man, in soiled Dhoti and Kurta and by his side his wife, wrinkled and wearied. Both sat on the mat laid on the ground, squatted next to mud flower pots, statutes and other artifacts lined for sale. As the old man sat there relishing his bidi, I wondered the things that would be on his mind. May be he was not relishing his smoke, may be he was just smoking away his own worries of a daily wage, children’s future, away into the air. By him stood a carved beautiful statue of goddess. I must say he would have made efforts to make those elegant curves. Some would see hope, some an idol. For him it was something to fetch his living. I thought ah! Perceptions like statues of clay. May be god dwelled in faith itself and that’s why perhaps he asks faith out of us. So go not to house of lord, go to the house of faith, and you shall find God.

Alas, it kept coming back. As I said, the question remained like a blues nightmare, crawling into daily chores, every now and then. And one, day I was talking to this close colleague of mine. He’s sort of sporty, go-getter guy, straight out of his masters in business administration. Although I can say, a friendly guy to get along with.

During a casual chat, I asked him, “ Dude, what do you thing runs this world?”

He glanced up from the worksheet and starred at me and like empathizing with me, smilingly said,

“ Passion, Goal and for us most importantly- Targets.” ( Broad Smile)

( Silence)

Him: What?

Me ( with my smile): No. I was expecting you’d say, Petrol.

( Silence. Laughter)

Him: And in an election year, the words Power, bro. If you know, what it means.

( Long Silence)

Him laughingly: Am I missing something here?

Me: No, I was just thinking what happened to those three- Beauty, Dream and Desire!.

( Silence )

Him: Well I guess, they went out to find, ooh la la, Miss. Happiness, who used to sit beside, but I now hear, they rest in acquaintance with Mr. Sad.

And he winked at me. ( Laughter).

Brilliant I thought.

But I can tell you, the most close I came to finding the answer was with this guy I know. One, who’d be practically having zero emotional quotient and a superb IQ.

So on net, I quipped with him: “ Tell me man, what runs the world?”

Him: “What man!! . That’s an easy question man.”
Him: TESTOSTERONE

( Mad laughter on both sides )

And I thought, very close. Almost right.

Me: “ But wouldn’t that be under the subset of Love, Lust and Hunger”.

Him: “ Don’t disappoint me man. Every thing boils down to procreation. Its how civilizations survive. “

Me: Yeah. Very true. I had forgot about you. You dog!.

Him: That I am!.

For long I thought, may be that was right. Procreation. Essentially giving life to run the world. But not all sperms survive. Not all species make it. We are just superior to a few. Scientifically speaking. And some say, sex is over-rated.

And then the other evening I stood with this another guy chewing bubble gum and smoking cigrattes, standing at the bus stop. I told him this long trail for a silly answer.

Me; “ Yaar, what do you think ? “

Him: “ What ?”

Me: “ I mean you, know, What runs the world ? “

( Intense stare with a smile)

Him: “ Dude you are asking the wrong question!. Essentially, what do you do when the worlds running? “

Me: “ What ? “

Him: “ Run. We got to board this bus. “

( Laughter )

Him: I was thinking, you know.

Me: What?

Him:You don’t have to be worried. Even that bastard, Mr. Sad, managed, something best out of this world in those three.

Him: Beauty, Dream and Desire!

(Silence. Laughter)

Me: May be. And now the question is where the hells Miss Happiness?

( Laughter)

Him: At home, with Innocence and Ignorance, while Mr. Money is out on the streets sweating out.

(Silence)

Me: And what happened to Peace?

Him: Ah-ha, well, well…well… she’s sleeping with her Knowledge.

Me irritably: “ You’ve any idea what my question was ? “

Him: “ Look man essentially what you tell me, a lot of is a Fact. And as for the world, as the Gita says, its all an illusion.”

Me: “ Oh yeah, Fiction! “

Him: “ Yeah, a few Facts and Fictions”

( Silence )

And he gave his characteristic so true, Mad Laughter, for our mutually understood utter stupidities.

So, we both looked outside the bus window. For I guess completely a minute.

He turned, half looking at me and half looking outside the window, down at the people on the streets: “ And in case now, you’d be wondering what’s that distinguishes between fact and fiction, let me help you-Welcome to Reality”.

( Silence)

Him ( Chewing gum, chewing, chewing): Look man. Ah-hm. Life is simply like the good beautiful fiction, the bad part is we got to live with reality and we got to live with some ugly facts.

(Silence)

(Laughter. Mad Laughter.)

( A bizarre trail. Hm. May be tale )

Whispers: Life ?

Distant Whispers: “ Wake up. Tea.”

(Wife with a cup and saucer )

Of 2008 and 2009.

Every one on blogosphere , or even in this sphere of life, holds a desire to talk about the year that was. Well, I think I am no different. And when it comes to it , it is scary. For if I go back into the reflection of the year that went by, I wonder, it went by, and yet again with so much, that its difficult to put it in words. Well, may be it happens with every one, and each one feels or carries something good, bad, happy or sad, from one year to the other. In some way or the other it is special. But I guess, there are only a few in your lives, where in, you just don’t know what hit you. And you silently, or daringly, or lovingly, embrace the wind of change. And if you are some blues kind, perhaps, you can look into the future, not with any certainty, but with smile, and feel precisely the drift. Sometimes, with smile, sometimes, with momentary love for the past, sometimes, just like that, for a dream.

As for the moments that went by, for me. Hmm. Well, amazing. From the stand alone point of view, perhaps, I can only share, that what I have witnessed is nothing but meeting some destined fate. I am not the kind, who ever believed in it – fate and destiny and all that. Not that I have ever taken an extreme position against these words, in fact, I have never taken any extreme position. Still, in one way, I feel, sometimes, you get a knock on your head, and if you can add up the coincidences of events around you, one can feel, that the existence of hidden mystery that life is, sometimes sneaks at you teasingly. And at times it is difficult to distinguish between the smirk and a smile. You know to shy away and walk further ahead. For a while, I remained agape, for a while, I knew, that something is in store for each one. And that something, would come to you, one way or the other. Its just a matter of time. But the waiting is worth it, I guess. It is not often but I guess, some times, in waiting, lies the only hope; hope for the best things in life. Hope for things to fall in their places And may be all you need to do is flow in the stream and take care, not to topple over.

And of the year that passed by , I got married. To share about it, I can say it’s a big event in life. One, that comes with a pleasure and bewilderment for the change in atmosphere both outside and inside. Something that happens with any new change, first day at school, first time at college, first day at work and then for a while an era collapses on ,day of marriage and another journey begins. One in which new hopes are born, new dreams are sewed and hordes of castles are built in the mind (which itself feels to be in air). Lots of things happen for the first times and I will share only that, time passes like a ride on the magic carpet, all you need to be free and floating and in the right spirits.

Then there was my ( our ) glorious moment. For a long time, I had been thinking of going to the mountains. Many times, I rolled my plans but they all rolled off track into the abyss. But in this year, they trekked upwards till some 18000 ft. And in a way they elevated some confidence in having high hopes.

Gurudongmar Lake@17,000 ft - Yea !!

And then some how on my way, I stumbled upon this point.

On enquiry the significance of the point, the locals gave me varied interpretation:
Zero point is essentially zero point. Essentially a dead end.
Its a point, where the road ends. The adventure begins.

P.S : For those, in new dimensions of life and in year of great recession. Best of luck!. Best of hopes!. Whatever. Keep walking.