Life, fadin with time.

Life, sneaks up on us with some revelations from time to time. Hard as it was to digest, It did so quietly one evening, leaving me wondering about the past.

I was seated amongst a few friends from the past, but felt like a stranger. It had been a couple of years since this particular combination had sat around a table. Let alone have a conversation. What once used to be such absorbing and entertaining was a depressing affair this evening. For me...

I couldn’t relate to any of the banter, wasn’t contributing to anything that was possibly what others considered an engaging discussion on current affairs of their lives. If I was sitting with strangers, I might have been more interested. But I seemed to be now caught amongst strangeness, familiar and disconcerting at the same time.

When had I moved on? To what had I moved on? Or have I moved off the radar.

I couldn’t see the bonds that made me want to have my presence there. From the second moment, I had been plotting my way out. For what? Have I forgotten all that I used to feel? How these familiar strangers… (I say so because, they don’t seem to have changed at all) but my perception and relationship with them has changed.

I couldn’t relate to them anymore…. Had I used up all that these people could offer? Had I exhausted the moments, the time and sense that used to be ‘my life’ in their company? Had I forgotten everything? What is the reality… what I felt then or what I feel now? Maybe both? It felt like… because I felt I was wasting my time now…. It seems like I had only wasted my time earlier… a very disturbing thought. Everything was wasted time.

What was even more disturbing was this…. The longer I live, I will just have more to forget and question. Isn’t there anything to hold on to? absolute and unquestionable!

A dog’s life could be better

She had been threatening to come and greet us for quite a few days. Wearing a grey veil and refusing to smile she paraded silently. The grey darkened as the days went by… and finally one Sunday she opened her arms and showered her love on us. The Mumbai Monsoon was here, finally. And it poured for days…

As it poured, I was wondered if the city was crying for all that I had to witness. I have to admit, I am not a great fan of Mumbai city. And I am more than a little disturbed by what Mumbaikars claim to be their indomitable spirit. My take on its spirit is this “This city is ruthless and it will crush you, accept it and move on, knowing everyone would rather pretend to be blind to its apathy than do anything.”

A walk in the pavements of Mumbai will bring to life how crowded Mumbai is. Normally crows and cats tend to run way or fly as the case may be in the presence of humans. In Mumbai crows hop around and refuse to budge even when shooed. Cats can even get aggressive when confronted. They have nowhere to run. For a minute I was wondering if we are encroaching into their space.

I cannot really figure out where life begins and ends here in Mumbai. I watched a very emotional scene that left me bewildered. A loving father was toting all his devotion and love on his kid. Holding the 5 year old in his arms affectionately, rocking her from side to side. I watched the girl break into a billion smiles in one single burst. She was experiencing heaven… a great feeling… just that it wasn’t so… from where I witnessed it.

All this was happening by the sidelines on the pavement in a busy junction. Far from being a loving scene, it was highly disturbing as I saw the father and daughter bond amidst the thick set crowd on the pavement, sitting a few feet from garbage cans set against the backdrop of a flowing sewer. A parallel to how life flows in Mumbai perhaps. As I wondered whether the little girl would ever get to know the concept of “personal space”, mine was rudely interrupted by a eunuch seeking alms.

It isn’t anger that surfaces when I encounter a eunuch. It’s a mix of fear and pity. If the handicapped are the children of a lesser god, then eunuchs must be children of a deviant god. If all the helplessness in the world were to be bundled into a human form, the result is a eunuch. And Mumbai is a haven for them - an accepting society. Just then I shelled out a 20 rupee note to spare myself of the guilt of being complete, my driver turned around to tell me that the beneficiary of my money wasn’t actually a eunuch, but guys who dress up like one to extract money. Mumbai doesn’t seem to spare eunuchs too. I found it disgusting.

After a couple of weeks of loafing about in this expansively crowded city, I called it quits for good. Mumbai was never going to be an option. I just had this to say as I kicked off - “Goodbye, Good luck”

* All characters in this are real and unimagined, and in the event of hurting any mumbaikar sentiment, i am sure your spirit will sail you through.

Reality mirrors illusion

One fine day, half awake I was whiling away time. Sometimes the most simplest of things can leave you confused -

I moved my right hand touched my nose... a simple and perfect action. At the same time what I saw was - my left hand move and touch my nose. I had just seen the very opposite of what I had done. It was simply unbelievable. I waved my left hand and witnessed a right hand waving. I turned left, only to see the action being flipped again.

In the reality of watching my mirror, I was seeing everything the way it wasn’t happening. But then if am seeing them happen, how can it not be real? What was real and why is it at the same time an illusion. I just witnessed something that never happened. But it did. I closed my eyes – and I have a sneaky feeling the man in the mirror never did!

Is there life on Platform Number 4?

At 9.15 last night this thought popped into my head, staring at the desolate platform at Majestic Bangalore. Somehow the name is not in sync with the place. The railway station in Bangalore is anything but Majestic. Hailing from Chennai, where Central station and the surrounding areas are known for the characteristic look, feel, smell and touts – Bangalore Majestic, sadly has no such character.

The journey to the station took a while, what with my auto driver blaming the inching traffic and unwillingly being a part of it. As I got down at the station I noticed a huge crowd squatted outside the main entrance, spilling out from the crowd already inside which I encountered in the next few minutes.

I had the longest wait for a platform ticket ever. It gave me the feeling once again that Bangalore was actually a mutant spectator to its burgeoning progress. If you could call it that - Progress. The sheer inability to cope with the speed in which this city was moving was evident. The announcer was on time to tell me that the train wasn’t. And I was to receive the delayed train on Platform number 4. Now where have I heard that before?!

I managed to buy the platform ticket much against my instincts, which are quite adept at flirting with disaster. The cheap thrill of getting away with something unlawful was pushed to the back seat for this evening. The queue seemed never ending till I reached the window. And the ticket vendor with a silent nod pushed a platform ticket as though, he held a grudge against me.

The journey inside the station is as bad as out on the roads in Bangalore. Outside the potholes keep you on your feet, or otherwise. Inside the station the people squatted around will keep you guessing on which path to tread.

This is when it got weird. Of all the platforms in the world, ok Bangalore majestic, which are connected by a subway from the main entrance, only platform number 4 was left out. It’s actually an architectural wonder. As in I wonder who the fuck planned it in such a warped manner that only platform number 4 was connected to the main entrance by one lonely over-bridge.

I got there after a while. I had enough time to kill, but not a clue, how?

The moment I started climbing down to the platform from the overhead bridge, I could just begin to see how much of a dump this particular strip was. Barely lit, it had an eerie setting to it. Not one soul around. For a minute I actually turned back wanting to retrace my steps and wait in the main lobby till the train arrived.

Then, the instincts I was talking about – they were back. I stepped onto the platform. And then I saw still life, absolutely still. Watching as I stood on that platform, there was no movement, add to it no lights, no people, no canteens, no… there were two dogs and quite a few cartons.

2 Dogs were sitting atop the cartons - like they owned the platform. And they had nothing much going on either – they were sleeping! And I did what any half educated twit would do – let sleeping dogs lie. Waiting for the train, I stood there wondering if there was any life at all, on platform number 4!

A few minutes passed, and just as I was just getting used to the eerie silence, arose a disturbance that set the two hounds barking. I turned around shaken, to see a man rising from amidst the cartons, like a phoenix from the ashes. A drunk, disheveled and haggard, coughing incorrigibly, stumbled past me, and took the steps up. The two hounds in his pursuit barking their heads off.

It took me a while to compose myself and a few minutes later was laughing in relief as I saw a train make its way in from a distance… soon there would be more life on platform number 4. Possibly more than it could handle.

Jul 2005

Remembering the Future...

Times have been and gone
I have been and am
My mind, a wandering space
i go round and around
changes around me
takes me to places n spaces
I move along
living the moments, sweet and not
flip into the past
Call it deja-vu or imagination
I have been here
back in the future
have had these feelings before
thought these thoughts before
met these people before
like them and unlike them
And have braved these times before
and cried sometimes before
And now facing the present
I see what lies before
Great times of hope
And here I stand remembering the Future.

'06