breaking free from streamlines

All of us are made to believe in a certain fashion. In a particular mode. And fortunately most of our beliefs are accounted for. There are solid reasons behind everything(well almost).

However, this setup numbs us. Incapacitates us into something that allows thoughts to progress along a set of rules, only. Perhaps, that is the work of nature.

But, i tend to cognize that this judgement lies in each individual. To trust or not to. The sky is azure blue only when i correlate the name blue with that specific shade. Some of us have tried to read names of colours written in any other tone, than that actual one. It is tricky, i agree. Those who can do the job easily are termed intellects. While the rest of us remain just-about-intelligent or not-so-intelligent.

It's hackneyed, on one side of the coin. Though things seem to be utterly confounded on the other side. If to digress the mind in different arenas be called brilliance, then all of us have to break free(to a very small amount in the least) from what's been inculcated to us since birth.
Irony, isn't it?

Tactfully enough, most of us do diverge. To develop our own views, to raise children in ways we prefer, to live in a different city, wearing jeans when somebody in the family shirks away. Some of us are laid back, let the world go by, we'll just sit and watch. Are we?

Felu Mitter

The Complete Adventures of Feluda
Satyajit Ray
(translated into English by Gopa Majumdar)
Volume I and II
Revised Edition-2004
Penguin Books India

I recently went to the Strand Book Sale held at Basava Bhavan. Obviously it included a visit to Chalukya. That goes without saying.

I bought the entire series of Feluda, by Satyajit Ray. It did dent my father's pocket. Nevertheless Feluda is Feluda. Nobody can match him or his creator. Both are absolutely out-of-the world. This was one of those first books that my eyes fell upon when i started Indian Literature. And i made M and father read it. Both were entranced.

Ray admits his source of inspiration to be Sherlock Holmes. He wanted to write detective stories for children. And he did, in a children's magazine, Sandesh. Apparently he found it difficult to write, as sex and violence was absent. But, Feluda went on to become famous, worldwide.
The language is pretty simple. And the story gripping. What more can a child ask for?

Some of the tales were made into movies, which became immensely popular. It's said to be insuperable even to this day in Hindi/Bengali cinema.

Ray also wrote on Professor Shonku. A very weird world-renowned scientist, who goes on to invent life under a microscope. It's illusion. That's what his stories can be termed. Amazing. Now, that i've got the whole collection within my reach, it's appears to be pretty impossible to put it down.

the city of dreams

We visited Bombay in the year 2002. It was quite a long period since we had gone on a winding tour. Of course, we were happy about it. Bombay and all the charisma attached to it. I wonder what made me fall for it. Of all the other metros that i've visited, Bombay stands out. Really.

We reached Bombay in the afternoon after about a day's journey from Bengaluru. We alighted, went straight to our place of stay. We had lunch and went about the place. We were led to Linking Road(hope i got the name correctly). This is supposed to be the main shopping area in the city. It is long road lined with shops, which sell clothes, footwear, accessories... what not. Company showrooms were present alongside with small walk-in shops. We were in awe. The road and the shop never seemed to end at all.

We decided to have our dinner at Chowpatty. I had heard of how snacks et al sell there. People flock there, to satisfy their taste buds. The elders rested on the sand, while we kids played on the beach until sundown. The sand was warm, with a pleasant breeze blowing in from the sea. This is the bestest attribute of the sea.

We approached one of the innumerable shops which sold chaats, papads, pakodas, sodas. With or without discretion, every stall appears the same. And we settled for one. Food came, and we put those spoonfuls inside, only to swallow it with difficulty. It is so different, the taste, which seems so unpalatable. Everything, right from pani puri, to pav bhajji. We left the stall, on an unhappy note. Saying that chaats at one's own place would understandably taste better. On coming back to our rooms, we had wholesome south-indian fare.

I don't remember the exact sequence of events.

We visited Water World. A launch takes us from the mainland to that place. It's about an hours journey. It was fun there. There was this water slide at a height. Nobody from our group had tried it. Me, being brave, came down by it. It was almost a free-fall, at the end of which, i was very glad to be on solid-ground. Three girls including me, deviated from the others. Father got worried that we were lost. A huge new place. Mother and another lady were on our lookout. Delight lit their faces, visibly. That we were scolded goes without mention. Another uncle lost his cell-phone and we decided to call it quits. Snacking at McDonald's, we again, gathered our strength.

Returning back to our lodge was tedious. Traffic jams haunted us. At the same time, it was pretty. The lights lining the waterfront. Awesome!

Another day was spent in travelling to the Elephanta Caves. These caves are again, located on an island, and can be reached by a launch. Huge sculptures of the Bodhisattva adorn the gloomy caves. There are about ten caves, which all contain the Buddha in various lights. The inside of these caves is real dank. Resting beside the sea, Bombay is humid enough. But, Elephanta Caves can drain one from all forms of moisture. We, later, drank fruit juices, flavoured milk to out hearts content.

We also saw the Mumba Devi temple, from which the city takes it's name. A flight of steps reach down to the sea. The temple is dirty, and one can avoid the steps. The Siddhi Vinayaka temple with it's gold plated ceiling has a golden idol of Lord Ganesha. This temple in particular is to bring luck to anybody, and her/his wish is said to be granted.

Linking Road beckoned there once again, with all it's shops. And we shopped and shopped.

Charming, one could say. Perhaps, that is that which pulled me tot it.

where are the raindrops?

I was really pleased about five years ago. If i'm right, that's when Bengaluru stopped expecting power-cuts in summer. Wow! This is it, though i. Possibly i could use all the favorable positive-sounding adjectives the. I was overcome by pride(i still am).

Far from that scene, today we are in dire need of electricity. With an almost failure of monsoons, it's very lucid, isn't it? For a country that attributes it's agricultural patterns to the seasonal rains.

It's fantastic to fathom the profundity of the monsoons. Perhaps, that's the reason i love it. Of course, the natural scheme has deviated. A scene when a farmer views the azure blue sky for a trace of water can move anybody.

Now it's to long hours of darkness. With the faint glow of a lamp casting yellow lights in a few corners. We are cornered. Incredible or credible, you choose.

three men...-comedy

'Three Men In a Boat' was introduced to us in school(high school). I still remember the excerpt which focused on packing things. And i guess, we found it funny then.

Frankly, this book is deliberated to be hilarious, but i would like to term it a light comedy. It sure makes you smile at places. With ideas going in opposite directions, with justification provided.

The protagonists well-described. Three Men in a boat(with a pet dog) holiday on a boat. Their varied takes on different things, and each one's presence of mind, thoughts form the plot. I could say, the storyline is pretty meandering. If one would want to read a thriller, this is obviously not your cup of tea. On the other hand, the grammer is good. I really liked it. Just like the old style of English, with a particular room coloured in a specific colour by each character.

It'd definately fine, if you would like to read some good English when you've got leisure time in your hands.

What do we do when things happen suddenly, not to our liking?

Imagine, we are are pretty happy with the way things are proceeding. And, all of a sudden, disappointment shows up. Perhaps, expected results do not appear. We feel dejected, to say the least.

God knows why things take place this way! Even when we have put in the little what we could. I don't know it happens. This tends me to believe in that illusion called luck. I adamantly refused to trust in it. I still deny it. I so want to. Perhaps, i'd like to be solely responsible for those that occur in my path. Feel quite gay, when things occur to my satisfaction, and maybe, correct(/slander) myself when i fail miserably.

When i do know, that maybe, i deserve a little better, i'd like it to be within my reach.

flavoured gulab jamoons.

A layer of tan-brown, hardened skin covered the tips of two fingers of the left hand. It had been two weeks since the incident. Yet, the burnt skin refused to peel away.

It happened suddenly. Before one could fathom the whereabouts of the deep-bottomed frying pan. Small balls of flour was being fried in hot oil. Hot, red-brown balls sizzled in the high temperature maintained by a blue flame beneath the pan. They could not be termed as jamoons yet. Warm sugar syrup laden with the fragrance of cardamom, coloured to a very pale shade of pink by saffron beckoned those hot red-brown things with love. To infuse cloying sweetness into it.

Happiness floated in the air, on the pretext of gulping down fresh home-made gulab-jamoons. Somehow, other jamoons don't stand a chance against this.

While the mind flowed along these thoughts, the frying pan tipped. Allowing hot, boiling oil to soak two fingers. As the pan was straightened, searing pain ripped those unlucky fingers. They were made to stand under an open tap. The effect of the act was eventually felt.

Burnt skin flavoured gulab jamoons. The skin peels away, as brand new skin usurps the dead fraction with rigor.

our songs...

This seems pretty finicky. Well, we all are finicky and Indian filmdom is too. So it shouldn't matter.

We all know, that dance sequences in our songs are exceptional. some people go forward to really make unforgettable visuals. We are shown mountains, cliffs, ravines, rivers, cities, rooms... etc etc. And we also are aware of the side people which match steps with the male and female actor. This number varies. What's happening in songs these days, is we've got white people taking these places.

No, i've got nothing against these people. Bless them! They are taught Bollywood dance, and i've read that they generally enjoy it. It's entertaining to see a fair face, with pink cheeks, wearing a ghaghra choli(which is to be decollete, inexplicably, of course). Men wearing bright sherwanis, jumping to the heavy dhols of punjabi music.

Every other song, these days(every song) in Hindi cinema have these gora folks doing quite a jig. Notably, these guys show more skin around. In fact, only skin during these cameos, when we have our hero singing before a set-up mike.

While, mother understandably exclaims. How ghastly today's cinema is!

logic

The manner in which the mind, the intellect functions is simply too good. The fashion in which our thoughts connect to give an appropriate answer to various things is really amazing. I've never pondered on this as much as i do now.

We all generalize it to be inherent, the capacity to process our ideas and the like. It is. It seems ethereal(well almost), the solutions we come up with. Something links something, and we come up with a result(be it right or wrong). It's beyond our means to understand what that something is, but we do know that an answer is sought after.

When, in my fifth semester B.Sc., we had this paper on Plant Microbiology(or something related to that). I was struggling with a 2-mark question. Well, i had never heard of it, and was judging the pros and cons of writing on a particular aspect. I remember, Robin Cook danced in front of me, then. His medical thrillers made me think of baffling things on that single question. I came out having provided the wrong answer. What appalled me was that thread which sought unimaginable ideas, one after another. I, then, swore that i'll never ever read Cook again(which was obviously broken within a short period of time).

Most times, somehow, i've realized that the mind provides an almost correct answer. How is this, that precise views rush into our conscious mind, when a question is put forward? How is it that i'm able to talk of things, when i've not heard of it, and yet, i arrive at it on comparison?
I guess, it's called logic, in short. A super-quick phenomenon which spans pico/nanoseconds of time.

a beautiful dark

The window in my room opens into an inky-blue sky. Almost black, one could say. On seeing something really dark, we readily term it as black. Which is not correct. It's a deeper shade of ink-blue, however depth you might want to assign the colour.

It's fantastic, this. Ethereal, you could say. On switching off the lights in my room, the window shows a lit image. Where one can discern the various entities with ease. Paradoxical, very. Our surroundings contrast themselves within a flicker of a second.

Darkness around me also helps soothe my eyes. Not into sleep, but into something very inexplicable. Unless a mosquito buzzes beside my ears. And i thrash empty air, until i'm satisfied that the act served it's purpose. Only to find the pest haunt me with renewed energy. A pleasant relaxed sense overcomes the thoughts. Pushing the latter into nothingness. That's when the mind thinks of nothing. Nothing at all.

Unexplainably, a tune is heard being hummed. A favourite song is heard by me. Uttered by the very same lips that had gone mum till then. It's another wonder, how words flow in a particular manner. Pausing at one, breaking off at the other.

Consequently, a high state is attained. A sense of exhilaration. Overwhelming!

my Bengalooru

We all know how big Bengalooru is, and the pace at which it's growing, the thousands of people who come to this city in search of a livelihood and all that. Well, i jad just heard of this from a third person.

But, to actually become aware of the plethora who throng Bengalooru is mind-blowing. I was taken aback. Really. When talking on the same subject at home, M and father told me that the craze has lessened to quite some extent.

That got me pondering. What made/makes this city so attractive?
1. The IT/BT boom is significant.
2. Pleasant weather.
3. Educational institutions

With the cost of living hitting the roof, we still have people pouring in. Wow!

partners in crime

A good friend of mine travelled to Australia for further studies. Though, the last one year saw us hardly see each other in person, we often spoke on the phone. For long hours into the night. Driving away my longing for home for that night and the following day.

We've had great moments together. Something that both of us cherish for a long time to come. I should say that i improved my slang when in her company. Perfect partners in yapping, talking gibberish most of the time. That was what we did. About studies, MCC, cooking, our realisation of womanhood, future aspects, books, movies, grape candy at the canteen, music, tears, laughter, about guys both old and young who tried to impress us at Chalukya. Not to forget, Di and S classified me according to the rules of Zoology in Zoo lab(I was shocked to say the least, while the others' enjoyed it immensely). She pulling my leg requesting me to take part in her petty sneaky crimes, asking me to be a little more lazy in life.

Father calls us perfect companions. S, you know, i'll miss you.

a stream by the mountains

We travelled from Darjeeling to Gangtok, in Tata Sumos. These four-wheelers are used pretty extensively in this region.

The road winds around the mountainside beside the Teesta. Roads are constructed so that each minute spent on that road allows one to intake amazing sights of the steep cliffs and the thin stream of water gurgling below. That's when i fell in love with the Teesta. Then, for a short
period of time. But, much cherished, of course.

The water there, is blue-grey in colour, and very cold to sense. It's perfect. The lush green of the hills, the blue-grey of the water, the brown of loose sand, including the tarred road that peeps in and out. Every time the road deviated form the riverside, i waited for the next moment when i could catch sight of the river.

I liked the sound of the word: Teesta. I was an ignorant fool not to find out the meaning behind it's name. I was told that it joins the Ganga at some place. Perhaps, it originates at the melting of a glacier, quite typical of any river arising in the Himalayas. It's ten long years since i've observed the river. Hope it has remained in it's pristine form. Wishful thinking when the world around us is sinking.

Inshallah!

bygone days

When, during school, i used to read books everyday. It isn't a big deal, i agree. But there was this competition in the air. When somebody told me that they had finished a novel.. I had to complete one quickly and pick up another one. Of course, there was this unexplainable urge to read too. I used to carry a book wherever i went, until i came to the end of it.; So much so that, folks at home tried to trick me into eating chilli powder with chapati(which obviously didn't work).

There was a craze to devour any book that i came across. And that's when i decided on my likes and dislikes too.I'm glad this happened. Those uninterrupted periods of me poring over a book in my hand. At letters after letters, words after words, lines after lines, pages after pages. It's simply fantastic to imagine doing the same thing now. Really.

I wish i could find extra time. Ithelp me squeeze in everything i like/want to do. Fancy stuff, i know. I've been wanting to do all those things i like to do since a few months. I've hardly been able to. It's saddening, because i don't have time to do what i adore.

Those days are past me. When i did what i enjoyed doing. I doubt whether those times will ever return. Now, i understand, what childhood is.

panoramic...

Navy blue and light grey laminates coloured the table. The object served it's purpose quite well. After laying dirty and shabby for more than a few days, it appeared in it's original shade.

The surface looked too unspoiled to be true. And on that afternoon, diamonds began to adorn a corner of the surface. Diamonds coloured in an alternate. Bands of dark and light grey made the diamonds. With the carbon of a pencil creating the dark patches.

That's when the mind went on to imagine the undecked plane decked up with lines, curves, stars, flowers, leaves, people, faces, expressions... and everything else. In every colour possible from white to black and all the hues inbetween.

the ''i don't care'' stance

I think each one of us should possess a small amount of the ''i don't care'' attitude. It's important with respect to anybody, if you ask me. For two reasons:

Firstly, it's obvious that every other person thinks of us in various lights. That's how nature is. Everybody around us shouldn't actually matter.

Secondly, and more significantly, i guess that this thought helps us be us, personally. At the same time, it kind-of makes us successful in our own individual ways, however different it may be. With a result of 'i did what i wanted to do'. It can be exultant, really.