Monday, January 26, 2009

The problems of a non conformist

This is a world of rules. Rules you and me have to follow, regardless of our likes or dislikes of them. My dad brought me up on this motto, or at least tried to. He considers himself a failure at the job. I do not know why, I still am a rule follower. I might skip and skim over a few here and there, but most of the time I stand steadfast to my rules. Well, rule. There is only one rule: There are no rules.

I have always hated the thought of being guided to somewhere or something. I am not a very smart guy, but if you are told this is it and this is how you do it, there is nothing exciting in doing it. I’d like to fall and bruise myself before getting it done. Call me a fool, but that is my sense of adventure. These ideas and their likes have led me to be labeled an idiot, the most consummate one at that. WTF! Wasn’t this what they call freedom?

I am a complicated guy, with problems bigger than anybody else. From my childhood till today, I’ve tried to understand with open mind this world that I’ve grown up in. Seriously, I’ve done that. And I am nowhere closer to knowing. It is all a huge paradox. They tell you to do something and then do something else. Hear this: My parents, like all parents, stressed on me the importance of telling the truth. SO in keeping with the rule, I walked up to an old aunt of my dad and asked her when she was leaving for her heavenly abode. Well, forgive me if my 3rd standard education had not given me a good grasp of civilized language. My parents gave me a smacking, and I never cared for TRUTH since then. Similarly, that time when my teacher was speaking a grammatically wrong sentence. My correction had given me a ‘stand up on the bench’ for acting smart.

What is normal? Somebody please explain. Is there some kind of standardized way of behaving in society? And who sets the rules? And why are they to be followed? Gimme a reason why I should not grow my hair long. All right, forget that. Give me a reason to give up on a career aim of being a journalist? No, bad pay and risks do not count. I know I was born in a middle class family; you don’t have to remind me of that. I know my dad is growing older by the day. Yes, I have to take up responsibilities being the only son. Let me do it my way. Don’t tell me this is how you should do it and how you must do it. I hate that. If you wanted obedient, servile and quick results producing beings; get a robot.

Sorry, if I sound self obsessed. I try not to be, but that is difficult in a world that asks you to focus on the ‘self’.

A problem of being born in an orthodox south Indian Brahmin family is that you have ‘standards’ that you have to follow. At least for the sake of ‘society’. Just because a few unknown people will walk up to you at the temple and spot the bearded me next to you, I am not going to shave. I’ll shave when I like. Ask them to change perspectives or walk away. If your relatives are going to be bothered by the cross hanging around my neck, don’t invite me. I am not going to change because you want to. I am not going to get better marks because your relatives get gold medals in their examinations. I do not want to run this rat race.

The scale of my problems has just grown after my teenage. Maybe I am growing old, or maybe I don’t wanna grow. I don’t know which one it is. Sometimes I just feel like getting on a bike and just go. Go far, far and far away. Where the streets have no name.

Then there comes a voice that says, you can’t possibly do that…you do love me don’t you? Girls are much worse than the whole world put together. They want you to be around them. You hang around your friends, they’ll complain. You hang around alone, they’ll crib. You wear a shirt you like; they’ll turn up their noses like they just smelt ammonia. If you are polite and humorous; you are a flirt. IF you ignore them, you are haughty; a snob. You might tell them your problems, but then you are a whiner, or gay. To hell with them. On the other hand, without them sounds better.

Somehow, the source of the problem seems above man. He cannot create such great and ordered chaos. It has to be the work of the creator. He must have got bored with his magnificent work and introduced all these small imperfections to make it interesting. And man following him, must have made all these laws. Like Al pacino says in ‘The Devil’s Advocate’ :

# Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off. He's a tight-ass. He's a sadist. He's an absentee landlord. Worship that? Never.”

So I’ll leave it to him to fix it.Till then, the rebellion shall continue.

Friday, January 16, 2009

I Was Born Naked

I was born naked

On a warm April afternoon

I fought my way through

A dark, watery womb that

Trapped my unconscious body

Which, upon its waking, found

Its prison excruciatingly painful

And broke those walls on its

Way to freedom.

I was born naked.

In the midst of civilization

They clothed me in culture,

Fed me language, taught me religion,

And covered me in race,

Till could not see beyond

What I had learnt.

I was born naked.

And taught to be ashamed of it.

I became someone I never knew

To please someone I knew.

I slept at nights to forget

The days I lived.

I was born naked.

And will die just so

As naked as you,

When you walk through the gates

Of heaven or hell.

For the Truth is naked.

And so is God.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

At a devi temple

She stared at me with wide open eyes
The fire burning before her
Within which charred remains of a darkened world
Destroyed,Being Created?
The reverberations that echoed
through my mortal remains
Coursing through my veins
Finally breaking its silence
On my tongue.....

The mother watched,
As I spoke
the first word.

Friday, January 09, 2009

neknurD meoP

Argentine premium wines, from winneries that w...Image via Wikipedia

Images swim past delirious eyes
Moving,even when the sight is still
Through steady landscapes of green
That bob up and down when seen
The eye struggles to keep straight
Heady fumes that rise high
And white to a filled head
Filling it with no stranger sights
Than it might know when sober
Ideas float in,and float by through
Corridors of unconscious conscience
Where trains of thought keep passing
Endlessly to unknown destinations
In the landless nation of imagination
And the I,sleeps amongst boughs
Of green vines where Bacchus ages
His wines, tempered by the heat
And chilled by the cold of an
Unsteady , passionate heart that
Cannot decide its intentions best
Between what is and what is not
And considers the contrary to be,
To fly up to heavens where it can
Scarce attempt to be.
The flight is fanciful, and then
Comes the fall.

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Tuesday, January 06, 2009

A Reverie

Each man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. --------- John Donne

I slept that night,
In peace as white
As the sheet drawn
Over my head.
I dared not breathe
to disturb the winds
That passed
through my lungs
As sky breathed
so slow,so low

And the earth opened
Her green heart
to cradle me
In a loving embrace
Where time stopped
and fear died,forever
It died with my heart
that had stopped
Its nervous pitterpatter
and was still,
As still as the colour black
And yet,i moved.

I rose up through the wind,
parting the dark skies
and walked past stars that shined on;
They did not mind a stranger.
They knew as i came
I shall be gone.

I rose as far as my mind could go
Till i reached a point where
light no longer passed
through my eyes
Nor did the wind blow
Where everything was
As white as the snow
and as cold.

I smelt every sound
and heard every colour
and tasted every emotion
that I could feel
And i felt nothing
and learnt nothing.

I turned back through the gates
And fell with a star
fiery and fast
I fell forever
and reached the pathways of man

Awake, arise, or be forever fallen! ----------- John Milton

Friday, January 02, 2009


Khamosh raat

Sehmi hawa

I stand beneath the entrance.The huge facade sprawls over me,its paint chipped and dusty near the top.The watchman smiles at me and asks,"konasaathi thaambla aahes?"I nod and walk to the seating space.He knows me for the last 3 years.Every single one of my graduation years.I sit down on the pavement and continue waiting.A lot of known faces walk out from their lectures,as braindead as they went in.They walk up to me,talking.They blab about what happened and what did not.They talk about movies,girls,cricket and the obvious boy talk.I listen silently, uninterested in any of their conversations.They are not the purpose of my wait.They know it and joke around.

Tanha Tanha

Dil apna

The sun goes up into the sky,grinning as brightly as it could.The cold id dying slowly,as slowly as it could.I look around at students busily immersed in pursuing careers.The sounds are beginning to grow louder.Of friends joking,of silent love screaming at the top of its lungsto be heard.And yet it dies out before anybody can hear it.The birds fly around their houses,disturbed at this intrusion into their peace.I wait,still.Sitting as a statue,dusty and forgotten.On the street pavement,except the cup of tea in my hand gives me away.One that my profs did notice.They come up to me and speak.I listen as they go on about my talent and laziness.I am a combination of potential and arrogance.How strange,that these characteristics often go hand in hand.I ask them about my projects.It has finally been accepted.I smile.They walk away with a grin hiding behind their their thin,cold lips. I take my place.A book would have been good to read.It is hard to keep speaking to oneself for a long time.

Aur door kahin

Roshan hua

Ek chehra

The wind changes directions.It cajoles me with its slow pats on my cheeks.Ruslting up leaves on its path,playing around with them.Like a sister trying to cheer up her little brother.I bid it leave.The place is desolate and growing silent.The pangs of hunger have eked the strength out of young hearts.They will soon have to learn how to deal with it.I am starving too.I wait for hope.And she arrived.Walking down the stairs almost reluctantly,looking around for a familiar face.I watched as her feet nimbly skipped stairs making her hair bounce on her shoulders.I stood up and waved.

She walked over and said “ Ready to go?’

“I always was”.

Yeh sach hai ya sapna