Thursday, July 26, 2007

A dream whispered to another...

A man was dreaming about flowers, there were hordes of them in the valley, roses, tulips, dahlia, lily… but it was the wild flowers, which he found the most exotic, flowers whose names he did not know, flowers like he had never seen before. They formed such a mélange of color, an intoxicating mix; it was hard to take eyes off them, and as all the flowers beamed at him he felt as if an enchantress had captivated him. He sits down amidst them, his heart so full of all the good things in the world.

His reverie is broken when he hears a rumble getting louder by the instant. Engulfed in fear he looks up to see a large mass of snow sliding down the slope of the mountain towards him. “Snow, Wow! I can ski!” he thinks. And the next moment he is accoutered in his skiing equipments rushing down the slopes, feeling the chill of the wind on his face, right down to his spine.

“That was very rude of you Mister, he was so happy with me till you budged in.” whispered the dream of flowers to the dream of snow. “Oh Hello! We are dreams here, manifestation of this man’s desires; I can’t push and shove like living creatures even when I so want to now. I exist because he dreamed of me, and who are you to blame me?” replied the dream of snow gruffly. “Shh! Keep your voice low, will you, or he will wake up, I was just saying he so liked being with me, he was having the time of his life, I bet” said the dream of flowers dreamily.

“What do you think he felt while he was with me, he was whooping with joy if you hadn’t noticed. And mind you, people whoop with joy when they are doing something exciting like skiing, not boring things like gazing at a bunch of lame flowers.” Retorted the dream of snow. “How dare you call the flowers lame? They were the most attractive ones you would ever get to see, and he was a gazing at a valley of flowers not a bunch, get your brains checked, Mister. ” replied the dream of flowers angrily.

So they fought on and on, no one ready to concede that the other was right, each retorting to the other with renewed force and anger, till the din they created was too much for the man to bear and he woke up. “These neighbors, can’t even let me sleep in peace, why in the world are they fighting at such ungodly hours? It is just six in the morning, damn it.” He gazes out of his window towards his neighbor’s bedroom, disgustingly. The beautiful roses blooming in his neighbor’s garden catch his eyes and he suddenly remembers having seen the valley of flowers. “Wow! What a place that was, such pretty flowers? Was that heaven disguising as a dream?” The man went on merrily, thinking and raving about the valley of flowers.

“See, didn’t I tell you, didn’t I tell you that he was having the time of his life with me, he still remembers.” whispered the dream of flowers triumphantly. But the dream of snow was nowhere to be seen; it had long since been forgotten, lost in the vastness of the man's mind. The dream of flowers was saddened to the core for the loss of its mate, it had no one with whom it could argue with. It realized for the first time that it was merely a dream, and evanescence was its second nature. “Alas!” it said to no one in particular and then the dream of flowers too withered away.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Reading “Harry Potter and the deathly hallows”! (No spoilers)

Gosh! The wait for days was finally over and it was definitely worth it, the 6th book had left me a bit unhappy, so many questions left unanswered,“How can Dumbledore die without a purpose?”, “Why did Dumbledore trust Snape blindly?”, “Who is RAB?”…

I still remember brooding and discussing over these questions for days at end after reading the 6th part, the one-year wait for the 7th part seemed so long. And towards the last few days the excitement had mounted to enormous proportions, I was browsing through the numerous Harry Potter fan sites, albeit unconsciously, between work. Discovered a very interesting site on Harry Potter etymology , and almost completely finished reading it. (Came to know that the Erised in “Mirror of Erised” is ‘desire’ spelt backwards.)

But the 7th part definitely made up for it, its JKR’s genius truly that I was left satisfied by the end but still was a tad sad that the book had ended. Hope she keeps writing, her brilliance does not need a Harry Potter to shine through.

Thank goodness that the book got released on a weekend, else I would’ve probably bunked office to read it, as the book definitely is unputdownable, and on Saturday I literally did nothing else but read it. I even managed to read the last few chapters twice, will definitely read the book again. People who had read the fake HP-7 (fanfiction, which is also readable), which did the rounds sometime back, will realize the obvious difference in the writing styles; the original one is definitely a class apart.

I won’t spoil the fun for anyone who hasn’t read the book, but people grab it fast, before you come to know about it in bits and pieces. Nothing like the suspense and drama of seeing the plot unfold, of the different bits of information fitting in to complete the elusive picture. This one has all the ingredients that have made the Harry Potter books so loveable till now. And having read all the previous parts, this one was also like taking a walk down the memory lane; maybe even JKR became nostalgic while writing it.

An interesting observation, as I went in the morning to collect the book from the bookstore just fifteen minutes after it opened, I was told that 15% of the people, who had booked it, have taken it already. Now that’s something! A phenomenon which at least I was witnessing for the first time! Hype will not make people wake up so early in the morning for a book if it has got no substance. And that too a book which has nothing to do with the real world, but fans of Harry Potter will tell you that it is not so, you can draw parallels between the magical and the muggle world and that’s where lies the beauty of Harry Potter, seeing magic in simple things in life.

Thursday, July 19, 2007


On the roadside a cat is standing, waiting for a man to cross the road. A crow sitting on the tree is observing this with interest; he asks the cat, “Why don’t you cross the road, my friend, what is stopping you? ”. The cat looks up to the crow and says, “I pass this road often and I cross this man sometimes, every time I cross the road before him he stops and waits for someone else to cross the road.”

“They consider it to be a bad omen, to cross the road after a cat.” said the crow. “Yes, I know that, I don’t want to comment on the verity of the belief, but I also don’t want to trouble him by making him wait.” replies the cat. The crow praises the cat on his thoughtfulness; the cat thanks him and starts crossing the road as the man has already crossed the road.

A dog suddenly appears from nowhere, the crow caws to warn the cat, but the cat having sensed danger has already broken into a run. Unable to contain his excitement the crow also follows them. The dog is gaining distance fast but the cat doesn’t give in so easily. The crow cheers for his feline friend from above; the sight of human settlement is welcomed by feelings of relief from both.

The cat leaps over the compound wall of a house and the dog, angry and disappointed, is left barking outside. Panting for breath on the parapet of the house, the cat is joined by the crow. “That was a close escape my friend, be careful next time.” Advises the crow. “Thanks for the concern old fella, I will keep my eyes open next time.”

“But don’t you think it was a bad omen for you, crossing the road after the man?” says the crow. “In today’s advanced age how can you even think of such a thing? If I had been cautious today I wouldn’t have been chased. And anyways this happening just after we talked about bad omens is just a coincidence.” Replied the cat crossly. “Yes, a coincidence it is, my friend” said the crow, but in his heart he was still not fully convinced and wished his friend to not cross the road after the man.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Souls Talk

Here is the conversation that took place between two souls, they have just lost their lives and don’t know what awaits them. An invisible barrier confines them in the place they are; bored of waiting they start telepathing.

A: Hi, So what do you think? What is going to happen next?
B (sighs): Salvation! That elusive end, seems so far.
A (approvingly): Same here have learnt a few lessons from my past life, but still a long way to go.
B: Which form? I was a human in my last birth, a male by the name Ismail; I especially liked my face, not handsome in the conventional sense but distinctly charming. I wish I could have lived longer with that face, I wish we could carry pics, would have shown it to you. (Smiling at his own imagination.)
A: (laughing) You have to let go of such futilities buddy that was just a mask. We will be what we are, just a blob of light.
B: I would have nodded my head if I had one. (Both laugh at this joke.) So what about you, human in last birth?
A: Yeah, a male as you, was named Sharan, got killed in the communal violence in Ahmedabed recently. But I guess I deserved it, I was very hotheaded that day.
B:Oh! You were there too; we would’ve met then! I too got killed there, what a waste but, now when I come to think of it.
A: Let’s do this, I would try picturing my face in past life, you too do the same. Probably, then we would recall seeing each other.
B: Great! Hope it works!

An awkward sadness engulfs them as they both find themselves staring at their murderer; they feel an intense hatred towards each other, and as they are reading each other’s thoughts a hatred towards their own selves. They are the chaser and the chased at the same time the killer and the killed, they feel the agony of getting stabbed, the anguish of gulping their last breaths, the helplessness on seeing their precious lives fading, not once but twice now. The unbearable pain leaves them both tongue-tied (Not literally, but you know what I mean) they don’t want to feel the hatred and pain any more and let go of their thoughts, they both stop thinking. Silence pervades the scene for sometime before A breaks it

A: I am sorry mate; I don’t even remember why I killed you, mob mentality I guess, I might’ve even enjoyed killing you, but how it pains me now!
B: I am sorry too, was captivated by an extreme rage couldn’t even think at that time, but that is no justification for what I did, it’s just a lesson learnt.
A: Yeah, lesson learnt it is, no coincidence this, that we are here together, strange are the ways of God.
B: Stranger even are the ways of humans.

Suddenly the barrier disappears and they have to stop their conversation midway as they both start flying to their respective destinations.

B: Nice meeting you friend! Hope to see you soon.
A: Same Here, Good Luck. (Gives B a thumbs-up, which B returns.)

Friday, July 6, 2007


It was my sis’ birthday on 4th; the day she was born was also my first day at school. The only memory I have of that day is of my dad coming to the school to take me to the hospital, I got a half-day on the first day itself. I don’t remember whether or not I cried before going to school that day, but I guess I must have. I don’t even remember going to the hospital or how my sister looked the day she was born. Sometimes when in novels a writer describes the feelings of the elder sibling when the younger one is born, I so much wish to know what my feelings were then, how I reacted looking at my sis, holding her for the first time. I so much wish that I could write a retrieve command and lo! I have the file of that memory staring at me. (tch tch, what has the s/w industry done to me?!)

These days it’s so easy for parents to chronicle their kid’s childhood, but cameras were not so common those days and going to the studio was an occasional affair. So the earliest pictures of my sis were taken when she would have been around six months old (or even older, I am not sure.). There is one pic of ours together, she sitting on a chair smiling toothlessly and me standing in attention position and looking at the camera angrily. Don’t remember whether I was actually angry at that time or in the pic I came out that way.

I always wonder how we remember and forget things; there are some things of seemingly no importance, which stick to us all our lives. Like say, I still have this picture in my mind, a memory of the time when I would’ve been 4-5 years old.

I am standing on the stairs of my old house, there is someone else sitting and asking me a question about Rajiv Gandhi. I remember neither the question nor who asked it, but I remember being asked a question, just that. This is what I call a forgotten memory.

Sometimes I feel if I hadn’t gone to school and college my memories would be totally disorganized. The time frame of many things I remember is associated with what class I was in then. So I remember that we had gone to Puri after 5th std. and Ooty after 8th,K2H2 was released when I was in 9th std. and K3G in 12th etc etc. Lets see what methods my mind devises to remember the time frame of things now that I am done with college also. Maybe I’ve found some sort of an organizer in this blog, maybe after 10 years I will scan my archives to read the same very post and think, “Ok, I thought of this when I had just finished an year at work.”

Memories are just one aspect of the human mind that amuses me; I also grapple with other aspects of the inexhaustible mystery at times. Will post about the insights and observations as and when I get any, till then happy discovering!

Message from beyond

I am waiting for a bus in a sleepy town, I long for sleep after a hard day; the semi-sleeper seats of the bus seem tantalizing. But damn, the bus is late! In an effort to keep my eyes open, I look around, the bus stop is in such a sorry state; the floor is uniformly layered with dust, the wall is covered with soot at places, I am sure that the rickety bench I sit on will collapse if one more person attempted to sit on it. Is desh ka kuch nahi hoga, I think!(desh as in country, not to be mistaken with my blogroll friend.)

While I am looking for another object to direct my contempt at, a map on one of the walls catches my eye. It is the map of the district I am in and is barely visible in the filth that covers it. Ha! What use is the map, when you can’t even see it? Such a waste of effort! But then I see something else; written in bold letters below the map is this nugget of wisdom ‘Have patience’. It is an inappropriate thing to write below the map, but it is there all the same.

As soon as I read it, I feel it is written for me, as if the person who wrote this knew that at some point a girl would need this advice. Sometimes when we fail to listen to our own voice, God has to resort to such measures to communicate with us.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Happy Anniversary!

I complete one year in Bangalore and at job today. As always time has galloped all the way and as always, I smile when I look back.
Last year was marked by many firsts(not necessarily in order)

My first job (read my first salary :D)
My first trek
My first flight (I am not counting the one I made as a baby.)
My first stay in a tent
My first blog
My first digi cam
My first lappie
My first guitar
And there would be many more if I sit down to list them all.

I dabbled a lot last year: salsa, yoga, guitar, photography, and blogging. Given a choice I would always prefer to be a jack-of-all-trades rather than being a master of one or let me make it even better, jack-of-all-trades and master of one. :D
Today being the start of another year I hope I keep dabbling and discovering. Cheers!