A small incident

A small incident happened this evening which triggered a series of questions within me about my nature, choices, believes, perceptions, behaviour, management skills, people skills, survival, self-deception and finally truth (which will be that which seems most appropriate after all the masks have been brought down....to put in terms of Sherlock, "Once you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains however improbable must be true.").

I was enjoying my evening bread just when I heard an anxious knock at the door. It was Manan, my landlord's elder son, looking alarmed trying to explain me something. But he was so slow that I myself, sensing something wrong, started asking him questions like whether he met with an accident or if Tanish, his younger brother, got hurt. He said, while riding, his cycle's handle accidentally scratched another vehicle and that they were calling someone elder to pay for the damage done. So I went down to see what happened.

From what I remember, Rita Di, the house maid, was sitting on the entrance stairs screaming and apologizing at the same time on behalf of the kids. The moment I went down, one of the guys asked me if I can speak Kannad or Telugu. I said "neither" and started speaking in Hindi. They showed me the scratch on their Innova and explained me their version. Then I asked for Manan's version. Both the stories seemed pretty consistent with minor biased opinions in their defence.

Then I began explaining the guy, who probably was driving the vehicle when this incident took place. And it was all explanations which I did. I said that, for such a small scratch unintentionally done by a kid playing in his own street, they shouldn't be so adamant and demand money or ask for the repair. From their physique and clothes it was easy to guess that the vehicle wasn't theirs and that they might just be demanding money because their owner might lash out at them. That's what I actually thought.

So I tried to explain them in a very respectful yet stern manner that they should let go this silly issue. And frankly I do feel that people should ignore such trivial things. For an unfortunate happenstance like this one, where nobody had the ill-intention or was hurt, people should learn to ignore what the outcome was and focus on mistakes at both ends just so that it never happens again.

But no my dear! Welcome to India. The country of rowdy Rathors and raanti Reddys! They want money. They want to show how powerful localites they are. They want to terrorize us by calling for reinforcement and outnumbering us. They want the police to be involved because they know, being localites, they can influence the police personnels too. More than anything else, on a much deeper level, they want a sense of victory. A sense which will make them feel righteously powerful. And they will never miss a chance for that.

Soon the other tenants, both girls (media students...worth mentioning here) arrived near the gates and asked what had happened. I explained them in brief and within no time there was a huge ruckus with both girls shouting and screaming on the top of their voices at those two guys. I sighed at my incapacity to calm them down. Actually, the moment I saw those two girls I realised that they will incite the guys to fight more vehemently. And that is exactly what happened.

Looking at the level of shouting and screaming out pointless arguments, I took a step back for few moments. Well there was nothing else I could have done. Given my soft, less talkative, non-aggressive nature I thought it's best not to speak in between. And what happened for the next few minutes was, I feel, totally unnecessary and pointless. The way these girls dominated by raising their voices and giving arguments seemed a little too much for the kind of issue we were facing.

I am not supporting or discrediting any side on their opinions and efforts. I don't want to state or analyse who was right or wrong. I am just pointing out at the way we are wired to always dominate. Kyriarchy. That's what I experienced today. In this case, by taking advantage of the child's mistake, the two guys wanted to believe that they have the capacity to beat us down, that they are above some individuals (at least in some situations), that they are on the 'right' side and so in their conditioned believes, want justice to be done.

On the other were these two girls. With a thought of 'being media students', they lashed out at the boys in loud voices. These girls had their own reasons for domination. There seemed a blatant belief in them that they can handle any situation by just being a strong woman....which is not false. Education and a masters degree obviously provided an edge and a reason to dominate.

Kyriarchy was the invisible symphony in the background.

These guys, stay somewhere on the next cross road. A few meters away from our house. Behaving in this fashion clearly indicates how we have evolved as a society of disconnected neighbours. Also, I want to point out how we end up being under control of things which we possess. Any small damage to a personal property is enough to blow off the lids of sensibility and logic and let's also say - ethics. In the heated argument exchange which was happening, a very funny line was being thrown by each of the parties - "Being educated, you should know how to behave." I was more than amused. :P

Well, a lot happened. One neighbour tried to be a patient listener to the guy who could only speak the local language. One delivery boy stopped with his vehicle just to enjoy the chaos. I saw a man's silhouette on the terrace of a building diagonally opposite to our house. The inquisitive passer-bys slowed their pace. Girls were shouting in their high-pitched feminine voices. The guys responded roughly and disrespectfully. Manan and Tanish were quiet with fright, Rita Di was apologising and I was wondering why it had to explode this way! The scene was intense.

Bhaiya, bhabhi, Manan's parent's were on their way. We were waiting for them. But it so happened that those guys decided to let go off the issue and vanished from the place few seconds before bhaiya, bhabhi arrived. The two girls started explaining bhaiya bhabhi what those guys had been saying and what replies these girls had been giving. One of the girls said how calmly I tried to explain those guys. But the moment she said that, bhabhi said "isse toh nahi hoga". Meaning, I couldn't have made them run away on my own. I laughed at that moment. Came back to my room and started wondering about my nature, choices, believes, perceptions, behaviour, management skills, people skills, survival, self-deception and finally truth.

The truth is I am not aggressive by nature. I make my choice to behave systematically in such situations. I believe it was a trivial issue which was not worth investing so much energy. I try to perceive logic, sense and rationality. So, I behave like a sensible human. My management or people skills may not be very good. But I think I can survive without them. Now comes the question of self-deception. Hmm... Too personal to write about. I will end it here.

One day the sky will be lit
not by the sun or moon
but by the fire in me.

Phenomenal woman that's she

Those nights when only ticking is heard
and every flesh is dormant in concrete 
there's a strange woman who appears
and places herself just besides me.
She glides her soft fingers over my neck
and gently whispers her melody
her voice enters my blood and face
her language my tongue speaks.
In that deep, feminine, seductive voice
the words erupt from my mouth
the words of agony, jocund shouts
the words of midnight bell too loud.
Every night, her footsteps are heard
I welcome the woman with open arms
and she brings a new poetry each time
which she makes me read aloud!
Then she smoothly ships me to dark
As the blue jazz plays in the background
And this I hear just before I go
"You're the angel of the town!"

You

If there is thought or emptiness,
a feeling or confusion,
a fact or principle,
there is You.
If I could free my fancy
I'd disturb you
I'd laugh with you
I'd never hold back
just because
there is You.
If I leave
you will be there again
somewhere in togetherness
or in the hidings.
I'll see you
in my labyrinth.

even if I dance you will not know
wish silence could explain
me.
And then again the tears...they fall
those songs...I can feel you in them
guess you were the only...

Blue

A symphony on the horizon
The notes in the breeze
Some stuck in the rose petals
Others flew to me
Clouds walked 
Dew drops settled
On my pale blue skin
Moist and cold

A walk to remember

On my way to the water cooler, I often watch myself walk to the water cooler. I see that grim face, like it has always been since childhood, trying to de-tangle some hazy stubborn knot in the mesh of thoughts; that loneliness whom I call to walk besides me so that I don't look stupid; that shyness hidden in resoluteness of countenance, showing the wise my hypocrisy and the dumb my attitude; that pain inside which keeps pumping through my veins, blocking my capillaries, reddening my fingertips; those slow-fast steps like electrocardiograph of a lier set up on lie detector and that play of whispers and screams inaudible to the human ear. I see them all present an extravagantly exhilarating performance deserving everybody's attention. But sadly, no one but me can see it. No one but me can feel it. No one but me knows how to appreciate it. But there are some who come rushing to me and enter my secret library to register themselves where they get a permanent residence. I see the welcoming warmth in my eyes when they shut down for few seconds. And as I approach closer to the water cooler, the effect seems to magnify in reverse order. Then there is the flow of the water down my throat, the push of my shoulder against wall, the long sigh of quenched thirst, the cold numb eyes and those million tiny electrical pulses in my brain fusing off to darkness. That's when I love myself the most.

Beast of burden

I'm living under a burden cast upon me ruthlessly by my religion, that religion which claims itself to be the most ancient of all, the source of everything from the tiny dust speck to the gigantic stars and planets, everything earthly and cosmic.
Then there's another hero which is much more malevolent and vicious than the previous dude, and that's - the society boiling with the heat of evil thoughts, capable of destroying the dearest and most personal possession, a man's integrity.
My own ideals are no less a devil, for torturing every inch of me, electrocuting my brain bit by bit, every night when I retire to bed, like a skilled master working his way to perfection in the lonely hours with just a single tool - heat, high enough for brain damage.
And I walk with these three ghosts on my shoulders, guffawing at each faltering step I take. But it's a choice I make to carry them everyday without any purpose. I am a beast of burden but why do I not pity the poor donkey on the rocks or the camel on the sand?

Down hill roll

Do I feel or do I get stoned?
Do I appreciate or do I mock?
Should the warmth be my creation?
Or should I just play plain?
My honesty is welcoming
My smile is endearing
But sometimes the rocks appear on my bed
They are heavy. But they are pretty too.
They are my source of strength. Huhh!
o~ the outward strength on z-axis.
Ask me about the Aurora Borealis,
I will fix you a bread and olive oil
Put me in a dancing machine
I will read my thighs, palms and bare feet
Play is all I know. The game of filth.
Around the lesser mortal and the lesser mortals.

It's I

It's I and you know I will be there.
You don't have to ask me
I understand your troubles
I'm moved not by your sorrow but by the strength you show
You surely need me. I can see it in your eyes.
I'm your mother
I'm your dearest friend
I'm love which smiles at your silliness
I'm peace which waits for you
I'm your comfort
I'll caress your hair
I'll hold you close to my breast
I'll hug you to sleep
I'll kiss you good night
And watch you dream peacefully
My child....
I'll be there no matter what!

Guest at my own home

As I stood at the main gate of my building watching the procession of Ganapati Bappa on 7th day of the festival of devotion, my smile did not, for even a second, feel shy of the large crowd of young boys dancing, playing dhol and taal, the elder ones managing the crowd and traffic, ladies praying for the last time to Bappa who was being taken to lake for visarjan in grandiose trucks adorned with flowers, leaves, balloons  and all the fancy glittering items. There. The kid in me sprang with enthusiasm with every handful of gulaal being thrown in the air toward the dark evening sky. My unwillingness to go back home, where my mom and sister were warmly playing hosts to the guests, was the evidence of my joyous emotions. I stood right there in the center of the widely opened main-gate watching the dance, listening to those loud percussion instruments being played, wondering how I used to do the same when I was a kid and staring at those orange flags, those symbols of a culture, fight and pride. I stood there firmly as if I were reassuring myself of my roots and identity. Although I resonate the most with that vibrant festival where nobody feels shy of shouting "Ganpati Bappa, Moryaa!" there still is a sense of disconnectedness. This yearly ritual is like a mini year in itself! I had missed it for 3 consecutive years. Even when I am not here, the festival continues to be celebrated with equal pomp and show. Every five years new faces will be added to the procession dance, the regular ones will be seen -- with fat necks, cheeks and tummies, -- managing the crowds, while only few of the older crowd will be seen standing and moving slowly along with the procession and I will be unaware of all of it.....From a sincere devotee to a mere spectator, I wonder if this relegation is experienced by others as well.

One life one purpose.
Dance!

The unknown generation

Small hands they painted
saffron, white, green, blue.
Their faces smiling tricolour..
Who are these underprivileged?
The unknown future, shouting slogans,
waving flags, placards in little hands,
unaware, bare feet on tar roads,
just marching, unaware.

Red pulse

I wish we had exchanged the red pulse
Mine with you and yours with me.
Holding it on the platform
Where trains pass by every second minute
Neither one batting an eyelid!
I'd ask you to build
From the rouge and wood
Where the winds bring melodies
Where the sky's streaked green
Look up. It's your home.
A home of anonymity and joy.
As we stop by the gazebo in backyard
Hold me close lest I'm might hibernate
Forever.

That night

The air was thin
They played voilins
Cupids chuckled
Roses waited
Daffodils smiled
And we...
We built castles!

A game

Here's the deal!
I will run
You come for me
Will see how far it goes
Then when you are tired
With cold feat, warm blood
Dew drops on your brow
Quiet and full
I will come for you.

The Godless

I finally finished reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche and resolved not to suggest the book to anyone. There are three primary reasons.
1. It is full of parables which are not very easily understandable but are given in a way which makes them sound profound when in fact they are totally irrelevant!
2. Surrealism beyond words! The amount of surreal imagery the author has drawn is tremendous. Such imagery might be good for visual pleasures but for reading it is totally irritating!
3. The wide array of topics on which Zarathustra, the godless, speaks is just too much! There are animals, passions, objects, nature, feelings, places, and so many other things on which the godless speaks! They all seem so disconnected.
The background story line is very simple. Zarathustra is an enlightened man descending down among humans from a long solitude just to tell them that God is dead and that they should aim to go beyond man, aim for Superman. So he journeys across towns, forests, meeting people and animals alike and giving them discourse on different topics. There are instances of soliloquies where he behaves insanely. So much is happening with so little clarity. It's all a surreal (sometimes exaggerated) dream.
But there are some statements written in fine sarcasm. There's a poetic and biblical touch to the book. Loud reading of the book is just so much fun! But it becomes too dramatic since there is complete lack of understanding! I don't want to write too much about this book. I may be ignorant to philosophies put forth. Anyway. I'll look for more lucidly written books. 

A story

I have been wanting to write about my experience on commuting on my bike in this pretty city but somehow I couldn't get my overwhelming emotions typed on keyboard. Today, a small gesture I received on the road while cycling, revived the whole experience, now making me write in a flow as the mesmerising - The Best of Bach is being played in background.

My story dates back to few weeks when I implemented an idea of a friend, who himself is a cyclist, of painting a piece of cloth with a message - "DON'T HONK. IT HURTS." and putting it on the bag whenever I go out for a ride. I painted the message in bold letters on the back side of the blue TCS10K 2014 goodie bag. Well, that was my first 10K in this city blessed with beautiful weather and awesome cycling and running culture. I'm falling in love with this city!

I have a Btwin Lady Rockrider 5.0, which I got last year after watching these awesome cyclists daily on the streets. I am not new to cycling. In fact cycling was my first love! My first cycle was a purple Ladybird, a gift from my maternal grandmother when I was in 6th grade and ever since then I have been cycling. I must admit that cycling culture in Mumbai is nowhere near Bangalore's. Kids back there have cycles. The moment they enter JC, they ride with less pride and more of hubris, on their scootys and pulsers. I always wondered how none of them enjoyed cycling the way I did!

I rode my pretty Ladybird even when it was no longer pretty. The only time I did not get to cycle, for the lack of resources, was when I shifted to Hyderabad for 2 years. But no more craving for that perpetual motion! Bangalore has given me a lot more than I expected. I fall for this city every time I see a cyclist riding with that "I wear biker's pride!" attitude.

Back to my story. This bold message which I painted in white in block letters is for that impatient lot who think that their mindless honking will clear all the traffic ahead! They honk as if the vehicle ahead will disappear or will somehow move aside, even when there's not an inch to move! Then there's honking at the signals the moment the bold red number, decrementing every second, becomes a single digit! Honking doesn't stop even when the roads are all clear. I think it's their way of announcement "Make way for His Highness is arriving in grand style at the greatest possible speed!" Yeah! Everybody is a Shehenshah on the street! Those wheels have power. Those wheels can take you wherever you wish. Those wheels are a status symbol. Wait a second. None of these give you any permission for indiscriminate usage of those decibels.

Why can't there be a little more patience, discipline, politeness and consideration of the situation and people around? Are these things too difficult to achieve? That cyclist friend of mine, who gave me the idea of painting that message, told me about his experience in Thailand where people hardly honk on streets. The traffic there is a silent mass waiting patiently for the vehicles ahead to move. I came across this story when I googled myself to find more about it. Very interesting and inspiring!

My rides back and forth between my work place in Bellandur and house in HSR, with that blue banner on my bag, have been pretty good so far. Right from the first day of pinning that message on my bag, I have observed that people become more conscious before pressing that horn. I have no idea of what they think or feel when they read the message. But somehow I have a feeling that it definitely reaches them in a right way.

Today morning as usual when I was riding to work and I saw a girl on her scooty-something, passed me by, went a little ahead and gave me a very distinct thumbs up! That moment.....I cannot forget! That feeling of support from fellow riders is something I always wish for. I remember when I had started commuting on my rockrider I received thumbs up from other cyclists who commute daily. I talked very excitedly about this "support a fellow rider by showing a thumbs up" to my sister and friends in Mumbai. It is very encouraging and again makes me fall in love with this city!

I asked the TCS10K participants at my work place to donate their bags to me if they aren't putting them to any good use. I plan to upcycle them by painting good messages and distribute them to fellow cyclists who are willing to put it on display whenever they ride. It doesn't really make a huge difference to the noise pollution levels in the city since I'm the only one who is doing it right now. But I still think I should do it since I feel the change should start from me and I know there are many who think on these lines. I'd be glad if other cyclists also agree to display the message on their bags as well.

That's my story of a small effort for a better and sensible living and a story of my love for the city and it's cycling culture.


And that's my bag. 
Pretty, isn't it? :)

Maid

Freckled cheeks and wrinkled eyes
Frizzy, grey hair, for spiders and ants
Like dry grass on un-mowed lawns
Pale eyes hinting sleepless life
And a face which I see everywhere.
I want to wash and perfume you
Gift you book to read until you go cold.
I'll make you a blanket of salt and earth
Lit up your old fabrics on the sea shore
And let the dark moment pass.

Me. Night.
You. Ocean bed.
Them. Moon.
Eternity.

Pasaara

After experiencing the life of living with less (a lot less), I am back on messy track of things. There are too many of them around me! I have always been troubled by this and now it's getting into my head so deep that every passing day is getting tougher than the previous one. My mental state is too dependent on these things to be taken lightly (as everybody back there always said!).

There was a sense of freedom and feather-lightness to that state where I restricted myself only to the daily essentials. There was a clear line between needs and wants. I cannot forget the nakedness of elements in my room - neatly made bed, plain white walls, clear table, comfortable chair and a small closet embedded in wall. That room was a perfect place every activity (dancing, acting/overacting, poetry reading, watching surreal movies, chatting with friends, cooking rarely, group-studying.....). The emptiness of my room, rather the space, gave me this weird pleasure I cannot explain. The symmetry, the placement of and steadiness in the ever-changing arrangement of the elements, was more than I could have asked for. Every little object had it's place. None was ever ignored. Every little thing was fully functional and was utilized on a daily basis. There were no extras. No accessories. No useless items. No mess. No chaos. There was perfect orderliness which I loved dearly.

Money was never a constraint. I could buy/spend more than what I used to. But I never did. One motivation behind was environmental clean-up cause ignored at our place at least. This thought reflected at my choices pointing towards - organic and recyclable items. Endless stretches of landfills composing of non-degradable garbage overwhelmed me. I vehemently denied unnecessary luxuries available. Life looked very simple. The yes-es and the no-s were easily recognized. How peaceful it was!

Now it's all topsy-turvy. I am on a crazy ride of yes-es. Seems like I have pushed forward the line between needs and wants. The balance is disturbed. I am disturbed. These spirits live everywhere in my room now. They are in the art & craft bag, growing inside the jar of sliced green olives, dormant in Waterman Havana Brown ink, lying in laundry bag and pouches holding unnecessary freebies, crawling on my bed at nights when I'm asleep and playing with dust on the shoe rack. The moment I enter my room they laugh, scream, howl and move around me like crazy spectres. The moment I switch on lights they scare me with their ghastly appearances. Every single object becomes so heavy that I do not dare lift it. And then they laugh at my inability. When I switch off the lights they lift the bed from bottom side which puts a huge pressure on my head. I spent sleepless nights and wake up in the morning with bad headaches.

Life has become difficult with so many happenings around me. 

Ride on

Wrote this after finishing the scariest ride ever in my life! This intense head ache is switching me off!
------------------------------------------------------------

Ride on O Rider! Your home is calling.
Let it rain with lightening and thunder.
Let the windy city roar out loud.
Tear the film with blade on your head.
Inclines, patches, signals and risks,
To hell with the Indian scene!
Just push down and ride on!
Your safe home is calling.

Reticent

Do not set me up with those adjectives. I may burn down in shyness. Do not praise me in the crowds. I may never turn up. Do not stand and observe what I do. I may not work perfectly. Do not tell people about my good things. I may close every door and window.
Just give me my space, time and solitude. I need them more than anyone you know. Take care that you will never disturb me. I will come to you when I need you. Take my NOs seriously. I have a right to my liberty and choice.
I do not act for any credit. I have no expectations from you. I just love your naked skin. The rough textures and the tiny hair on your arms. That moustache reminds me of the plough. Those strong biceps indicate your strength. I secretly admire your talent and creativity. Those symbols on the green board are your symphony. You have created and destroyed and will continue to do so!
Just like you I am. Just like you I will be. Tall. Reticent.

It's all surreal!

It was always better I always knew. The cube and the stars. The pencil and the ink. The Portal and the numbers. The dit-dahs and Gimp. The rides for 20. The roads un-walkable. The checkered whites. The stationary stops. The destruction of race. The birth of man. Yet I tested. This now turns out ugly. This never suited me. Although this was me.

Feel tired now to undo and redefine. The mess in my room stays for weeks. I cannot clean it. But I have to un-paint the surrealism. Start closing the doors and windows. This is no different than the illusory drums I used to listen to when I was a kid. I missed watching the surreal cinemas without realising I'm living one. I have to be conscious more than I ever was.

O man this hurts!

Meter pe bees rupaya extra

Meter pe bees rupaya extra! I looked at him in plain wonder thinking hard to figure out the logic behind this demand.

Few minutes back, I called it a day when LAN had stopped working temporarily at my work place. I locked the screen, picked up my bag and was set to get home by auto. Today was my second day and I had already spent a terrible night in menstrual pain. So instead of cycling to work in the morning, I hired an auto, which, to my surprise, was decently metered and it costed me Rs. 63 only, from my home to work place. The way back to home from work would be no different I thought. So after work, I withdrew cash from ATM and started walking to find an auto to take me home.

First one: 150 Rs.
I didn't even care to react and turned around and started walking.
He asked kitna denge? to which I replied 80 in a hesitant tone. I surely had forgotten how much I paid in the morning. Then he delivered the popular dialogue, Meter pe bees rupaya extra dedo. I looked at him and gave aapka kuch nahi kiya jaa sakta expressions and without uttering a word started walking again.

At a distance of few steps another auto-wala was observing me. I asked 27th main?, to which he thought for few seconds like a first grader and answered, 180 hoga! I burst into laughter, lifted my left hand to point to my destination direction and said Bhaiya, 60 Rs. hota hai! There was another auto-wala there to whom this first grader asked something in some unintelligible language. Then I asked again Chaloge kya? only to receive a confused refusal. I started walking again.

The next one was observing me from the diagonally opposite direction. I went to him, mentioned my destination and waited for his reply. I don't remember how much he said. I only remember my assertive reply, which was 60 hota hai! Subah hi ayi thi mai 63 Rs. me.
Him: Aap to meter se bhi kam bol rahe ho
Me: Round figure hai 60!
Him: Meter pe bees rupaya extra dedo!
At this point, I entered into a mood of argument. So I started speaking out.
Me: Ye bees rupaye wala kya logic hai aapka mujhe toh samajh me nahi ata. 
Him: Khali ana padta hai. 80 Rs. dedo fir. 
Me: Ye bargain kya kar rahe ho aap! Aur aap ko koi na koi passenger mil hi jayega wahan. Khali nahi ana padega. Meri journey to udhar hi khatam hoti hai na! Mai kyu extra pay karu!
Without waiting for his reaction I turned around and started walking.

I crossed the badly designed road and couldn't find any auto around on the busy street. So with a little hope of finding an auto who will demand honest fare, I continued walking. With every step I took, I became firmly assertive that I am not going to get an auto anywhere nearby. I saw a few buses but they failed to allure me. I thought I would rather walk briskly for 1 hour than stand uncomfortably for few minutes in a crowded bus trying to make it's way in the heavy Bangalore traffic. So I started walking.

On my way I was wondering about this popular dialogue which these auto-walas deliver every now and then as the last resort hoping to infect us with pity. They have no logical reason behind this bees rupaya wali demand.

Bhai kyu doon mai aapko bees rupaya? Kya aapne first aid kit lagwaya hai apne auto me? Ki safety belts hai? Ki topple-proof auto hai aapka? Extra paise mai kis liye doon? Chota AC fit kiya hai kya? Ki mujhe aap bees minute jaldi pohonchaoge? Kya wajah hai aapke bees rupaye ke demand ki?! Sawaari acchi nahi lagi to paise wapas karoge kya? Auto ke andar kuch refreshments milenge? Nautanki Lays aur fancy mini coke? Ki garam adrak wali chai milegi? Chota LCD TV fit kiya hai kya aapke auto me? Short film dikhaoge kya?

WHY?!

To give more than what one deserves is charity. I do not believe in it. To give less is injustice which I cannot tolerate. One should always get what one deserves. Nothing more and nothing less. Nobody has right on my earnings. I do not mind spending more if I'm convinced with a valid reason. There has to be a logical reason. I feel strange when people indulge in baseless conversations and assertively declare their feelings. There is dearth of logic and honesty. For them, every ride, chance and opportunity must be profitable. So they indulge in the filth of brainless arguments. In this case, the entire structure and meaning of convenient public transport is lost. They openly rape honesty and dignity. They shamelessly declare their deception and ask us to cooperate with them in their game.

Anyway, I came home walking, despite the risk of ending up with bad menstrual cramps. But fortunately nothing happened. It took me one hour. I'm used to walking for longer duration. So I did not mind investing my time in it. Besides that, I dearly enjoy my unplanned walking and cycling expeditions. ;)

O darling

O darling come and dance with me
Come with those heavy steps
Come lay your feet on my belly
Will the night stay here with us?
Will the old webs play on my bed?
Call the thirsty shadows at once
There will you stand
There will you hold
There will you shout
When they stamp me loud
When they push out from me
When they hold me tight
O darling you will see
How I please thee
With my holy!

120 minutes at night

After a lovely evening meal with a friend at a pretty new and pretty place called La Traviata, which looked like an Italian/Japanese themed restaurant/cafe/bar, with two polka dotted statues - one of cow and one of calf stationed outside the restaurant (rather unusual pieces for a themed restaurant!), I decided to check out Kormangla on my bike! B-)

The weather was pleasant. I had a lot of time in my bucket, was wearing comfortable clothes and had the basic cycling gears on - helmet, gloves and pollution mask. Boy I was almost set for the ride, only thing being, it was unplanned. But that didn't bother me much since I'm up for cycling and exploring any time provided the sun is hiding in some other part of the world! So Kormangla was on my mind. But Domlur isn't far I thought. So is Indiranagar. I can reach the place and U-turn back home in no time I thought! One of my college friends recently shifted to Indiranagar. I thought I will check her place and come back. The plan was made within few seconds inside my head covered with (I'm writing the spelling as my friend pronounced it :P) "Between" helmet! :'D :'D :'D

Three signal's - the last one being the very famous Sony signal didn't take much long since today was national holiday! (No prizes for guessing the day.) Then started the not-at-all lit but super smooth - Inner Ring Road. The ride on this road, after the next signal, was as smooth as sliding down the slide smeared with butter! O man! It was the sexiest ride I ever had in Bangalore! Can't explain the pleasure! Uffff!!!! Smooooootthhhh.....! I thought to myself how lucky I am that my unplanned event got planned on a holiday since there was no traffic at all! The roads were clear all throughout my ride! Where ever I went, I faced no traffic. I got completely zoned out and got tuned-into my perpetual cycling motion! I could no longer check out the place. I was so blissfully tuned into cycling. 100Ft. road had always fascinated me for the up-class outlets, top-class restaurants and long stretch of road outlined by huge trees on both sides. I stopped aside to call my friend when I started on that road. But unfortunately first and then fortunately now, the call didn't get through. For one number, the lady spoke something in Telugu, while the other number wasn't available. So I hung up and started riding again.

I rode till the end of the 100Ft. road and on the way I crossed this place called TOIT which my friend had talked about earlier this evening. There were pretty girls in mini skirts standing outside and I heard the music, being played inside, in full Doppler effect. I couldn't notice the place for long since I was riding with a decent speed but my side vision will tell you a lot more about the place. It looked pretty huge and crowded too. I could almost guess the interiors from the outside décor. But that's not the point here. When I crossed that place, there was a firm assertion inside my head, of one of my basic personality traits - I do not open up easily. I need time to develop, (in one of my friends' term - ) evolve and take in what comes before me. There is a lot beneath which I choose not to write about since otherwise this stupid write up would bulge unnecessarily. I moved on and reached the end of the straight road with a signal there and the metro railway line, running over our heads, bending towards right. But some anonymous group of neurons asked me to take left. I had no idea where I was heading. I looked at one SUV taking a U-turn and I, for a second thought I should head back. But then came back the jumping idea of exploration when I saw the board saying - Old Madras Road. :D

I laughed with excitement. No. The scene wasn't as stupid as it is in movies where the actor smiles and laughs on his own and nobody cares. I had an advantage - I had a mask on. So I heartily laughed with excitement and nobody noticed me! :D :P The next board indicated Ulsoor. I had been there more than twice. So I thought it to be safe to go there. Then came the Y-shaped left-right diversions with a petrol pump at the center but no board or signs anywhere near.
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference. ;)

Well I really did take the road on which there were no vehicles but only a few people walking with some luggage. I slowed down and asked - MG road? The man said after furrowing his brows, keep going straight ahead. I turned back and asked How far is it from here? to which he replied 2-3 minutes. But it definitely wasn't 2-3 minutes. I confirmed the route again at the next signal and went ahead. The familiar places started appearing along with a wave of an unusual content in my brain promising safety (now that's my funny brain - promising safety in some part of Bangalore at night, only reason being - I had been there before!). The metro line appeared. I saw the board saying - Trinity. I knew I was nearing MG Road. I started riding with confidence. The greater familiarity of MG road made me happier. Since, firstly it made me feel safe again (my funny brain again!) and secondly I had always thought of riding to MG Road on my bike! And there I was! For a fraction of second my increasingly-aspiring mind thought of heading ahead and taking the route where the magnificent Indian flag post stands with dignity, the place where I was overwhelmed by amazement when my friend drove me there one night. But it was already past 9 or 9.30. Didn't check the time then. And I needed to head back on time. So I pushed the flag plan to some other unplanned day.

Crossed Brigade road. Crossed the signal. Was very thirsty. Thought of taking a small break at Bombay restaurant but dropped the idea. Went ahead. After some signal on the way a two wheeler, honking in a continuity, came and hit my leg. I was already pissed at the way that dude was honking and when he hit my leg, I stopped my bike immediately and turned back and shouted What's wrong with you!. The dude riding that two wheeler looked like a kid and his friend at back was also a kid I guess. All I could notice in my anger was - the rider was wearing a kajal and the pillion rider was checking me out! Since his honking was the first thing I had noticed, I continued Ek toh itni zor se horn baja rahe ho!, to which this kid in front replied something I cared not to listen to and continued with my words theek se chala nahi sakte!. This happened just after the signal. Since they had faulted, I got the advantage to shout out loud in the middle of the road. But we moved on just after a could-have-been-potential fight when I said idiot in the end. I am rarely aggressive on outside but my conditioned mind made me do what I did.

Well, the anger didn't last long and I was back on my excitement track. :D St. John's signal was what I decided to take but the end-moment dilemma made me take left from the Forum mall signal and again my funny brain started it's funny theories saying - it's good to take the road from where you started! :'D I sometimes wonder at these strange statements my brain makes at odd times! Again, this is not to be discussed here. My next was a halt for exactly five minutes, starting at 21:48, to have my favourite watermelon juice without sugar, at the juice shop near Woodland showroom and start riding again at 21:53. And boy do people check me out‽ They keep staring at my bike, helmet and my...you can guess what...! Sometimes it makes me feel like a professional cyclist, roaming around and exploring the beauty of the city. Anyway. I crossed the famous Sony signal again took the Flipkart road, crossed the Jakksandra signal, passed La Traviata (without noticing the polka dotted cow and calf!), took the Sarjapur road and then was blinded by high beams of vehicles! Every bloody vehicle was on high beam. I couldn't see even an inch of the road since there were no vehicles following me. There were vehicles only on the other side of the divider. I slowed down until a vehicle passed me by on my lane and my eyes checked the road as further down as my vision could get under the lights of that vehicle.

Soon I was at the 27th main and it looked like a dead street at start with no lights anywhere! Further down I found some activity and was relieved to see people walking near the open shops. I returned back to the garage to park my bike and went home running to have water. Cold water.

This was my unplanned ride of around 120 minutes giving birth to this rather long and verbosely written stupid write-up.

Now comes the checklist.

To buy:

• A better pollution mask
• Head light for my bike
• A blinker at the rear end for greater self-visibility at nights
• Anti-glare glasses for night riding
• More professional-looking cycling outfits (I'm all excited ;D)
• A good camera to click along the way!

To do:

• ✓Cycle to MG road 
• ✓Cycle at night in Bangalore
• Cycle to flag post some night
• Cycle on Nice road
• Cycle when it's drizzling 
• To write long write-ups after all these rides! ;)

It took longer to write about the ride than the ride itself! It's nearing 2.00 am now. Another day has already started. (I tricked the Blogger to publish this on the same day I rode. ;))

Good day.

Addendum: Later at night after my ride, this guy I went out with earlier in the eve, made me feel pretty by saying that he likes me.

Mumma don't cry

Play on you immatures, play your game of filth
You may choose to bark or howl at nights
Or burn logic and reason with your pea-sized brain
Or may indulge in cheap verbal exchanges
Play on I ask. Because, your intentions will never be served.
Use your rather idle mind to come up with tricks
Or talk about fear of someone staying somewhere in Himalayas.
Preach if you want to, those lessons you've never learnt.
Or go for a mere shopping in your fancy up-class boutique
Then put up the make-up and jewellery of 3 Lakhs.
Go about your soi-disant saga for days and months together.
Do those dishes in your kitchen and talk about how wonderful you are!
Don't like my short clothes? Or the tattoo on my nape?
Don't worry I will never be around when you have guests.
Take pride in your culture and age old believes.
Or do you want to bitch about how many boyfriends I had?
Or how indifferent and insensitive and pretentious I am?
Or how I'm taking unfair advantage of the independence my mom has given me?
Might I suggest you come to me old ladies and foolish men
I'll tell you how worse a bitch I can be!

Mumma, dont cry. The taint doesn't matter.
Don't constantly try to clear your stand, it'll wear you down.
It has done no good. It will do no good. It is what it has always been
and will remain like that forever.
Venomous accusations and baseless allegations will never stop.
Are you listening mumma? To what your daughter is saying?
I love the food you cook for me, even if they keep picking at it.
Our small house is prettier than their grand bungalows.
I love the white and pink lilies in our small balcony.
Even the fishes in our tank know you have a warm, caring heart
for they don't eat when you cry. They cry along.
Everybody knows how wonderful self-made woman you are!
They don't call you Madam for no reason!
I feel proud when parents come to you for your advice on education.
You have earned it all by yourself! With no one's help!
So be on your own like you always have been.
Be that rock. Solid rock.
Let the fools play their game of filth.
You don't have to clarify anything to your daughter
Because even if they don't, I love you.

Muladhara

There is me in everything around here
Me in the talks, walks and food
In the situations, the deja vus
Suffocation of crowd
Stench of the aluminium
In the despise and irritation
In the power-cuts and humidity
With empathy and resolution
With inside and outside
With the time which runs
Without me.
There is me.
In every piece of this city.

Fourth floor

I liked you on first floor
I desired you on the second
I said you are my soul mate on third
But on fourth you gave me a rose saying -
"Our journey together has ended sweetheart!"

Fantasies

I closed my eyes and walked
With fantasies unraveling themselves
A smile and some expectations
A faith and little hope
The plain excitement
That clouded my beats
The serious thoughts
Which kept questioning
I kept walking.
Watching myself
Experience life.

Dissection

When I first saw your face
I thought I loved you
Then I took a knife
And started dissecting
As the blood oozed out
I looked at you and said
"You are the prettiest ever!"

From the diary of a sugar addict

Since past 3 weeks (approximately), I have been avoiding sweets, reason being, I am a sugar addict and I need to get rid of this potentially dangerous addiction. Initial few days of 'no sweet' were very difficult. The craving would increase with every passing minute. Head would start to spin, pulse rate would change, breathing would become heavy (slightly choked) and mind would lose focus from work. When I started  the 'no sweet' regime, I had substituted milk for sweets. Initially after every meal I had a habit of having something sweet. At my work place, they keep Bourbon. So I used to have it after my meal and whenever I craved. There was no limit to it. I would eat 3 or 4 at a time. And the pleasure it gave was intense! Sucrose - fructose and glucose together....Carbohydrates in bucket loads. O how I enjoyed those biscuits! The much needed sugar rush!
Milk when boiled turns slightly sweeter (lactose breaking down to glucose and galactose). So I substituted the frustose + glucose with glucose + galactose. But I wasn't happy since I was catering to my sugar needs. This in no way would help re-map my brain's pleasure pathways. Although I avoided fructose, I was talking in glucose. But I continued having milk whenever I craved since milk apart for having these simple carbohydrates, also contain proteins and minerals.
To say NO to sweets is a matter of will I thought. WILL. A resolution. It isn't that difficult. Last time, I remember, I had abstained from sweets for almost 6 months. I remember I did not have anything which even remotely tasted sweet, which meant, no Marie biscuits also or no chewda which had sweet ingredients. There's a story behind this herculean task. But that's out of context. Why I am here writing this is because, the 3 weeks of 'no sweet' regime got disrupted yesterday when one of my team mates got loads of sweets which I had  under limit and now has left me back to square one. Totally surprised I am by the time my brain took to relapse! It took few minutes!
I had no craving for sweets since past many days. I was totally oblivious of the feeling since, it did not arise at all. I could look at the rasmalai with indifference. I could stand beside the container containing Bourbon, smell the sweetness and not feel a thing inside my brain. No change in pulse rate. No change in breathing pattern. Nothing at all. All this was shattered yesterday when I allowed myself to 'think' of 'having some more and a little more' sweets. That was it. Now I am craving badly for sweets. I had 4 bourbon biscuits already since morning. I hate this feeling. It's worst feeling ever.

I'll write to you

I'll write to you with no expectation
Write till I exhaust the ink
I care not if you read or not
I expect you care not if I'm done
I'll take my pen to my grave
Do me a favour to keep it unfinished.

Punctures

I thought it is easier to die
but the stones keep puncturing my skin..

graveyard story

I will crave in my grave
when the night will sing
I will crawl and howl
at the silver moon
I will prick my wounds
when the flowers are close
I will cry with wolves
until I die again.

untouched feather

then there is nothingness
and I still find you in it
like an untouched feather
descending.

I wonder if I love you

I wonder if I love you when I'm numb,
when the faint old sense lingers within, 
when the heat dissolves in my blood
and passively increases the craving.

I wonder if I passively love you,
when there are no feelings left,
when every breath feels like a cough
and drains my body at night.

I wonder if I love you at nights,
like the flame of eternity on mountains,
like the way I used to love you always,
like plain LOVE for LOVE.

O solitude

O solitude
Sing for me
The lullaby you composed.
Eager sleep awaits
To cuddle in your voice.

Air

I dwell in today, conscious and aware
Of baby fragrance around me
I breathe in what you breathe out
The air brings you to me
I gain you with my every breath
I mature and evolve
There are no breaks
No pauses here
Just breathing
Because the air brings you to me.

At the end of the day

I was floating with the wind
He captured my wings
I was lying on the ground
He crushed me beneath
I was waiting at the door
He locked me in
I was basking in the sun
He burned my skin
I was singing with the cuckoos
He killed them for meal
But when I was sleeping on the bed
He kissed my cheeks
So I bought some time
To sleep at dusk
To hold him close
To wait in silence
That he will love me
At least at the end of the day.

Just like every night

Just like every night
I sit tonight
with no idea
but a feeling
overwhelming.

Object of obscure desire

Now I have hugged you a million times
that every hair on my hands
knows your touch
each pore exudes your scent.
I have swallowed your tongue, it lays inside
that I taste the melting sugar
in your mouth
your yawns and sleep are mine.
The space besides me holds your body
that I keep you neat
and you neatly shine
that I see you but you're free.

The blanket

There is a room
and there is a blanket
on the bed
waiting.
There is a faint
memory of warmth
on the fur
fading.
Every dark
before and after the sun
shadows the blanket
which remains
still.

My heart weeps

My heart weeps
but the cheeks smile.
Mind is in conflict.
Is it happiness
of weeping heart?
Or sadness
Of smiling cheeks?

The becoming

There's a steady defined growth on the tree in my backyard.
I'm seeing it since the days of my childhood
I play around with it, soak in it's shadow,
Decorate it, treat it, test it.
I find new leaves are fresh with juices.
I crumple the older ones beneath my feet.
Till they disappear. The ground has been strong.
The weather has been changing. The air deteriorating!
But the tree survives. All the changes.
The steady growth on it remains unchanged.  
It grows every day. Inch by inch. When I touch,
It's absorbed in my pores. I feel it now inside me.
Growing everyday. Inch by inch. It tastes sour.
Sometimes bitter. The polyploidy has entered my spine!
Latent in the lysogeny. It surfaces like flu.
Reddens  my skin with rashes.
Bubbles the dust in urticaria.
I become ostrich faced. Tiny little head
Trying to find a hiding. Then.
It disappears. In the ocean of million such particles.
I mirror him. My plasmodesmata carry him from my toe tips.
Towards the bud on my face. And when it falls off,
It starts a new life. Just besides the old tree.
The sun becomes comforting. I hold the soil and stand.
My arms lifted to receive the 680 and 700.
My thylakoids fill up. The xylem and phloem bring up to me
The sweet milk from the earth's bosom.
And I stand. Motionless. For years to come.

Repulsion

What do you see -
The dying wall
Or flying wings?
What do you take in -
Through your breath
Through your skin?
What's on your mind -
The twitchy veins
Or wrinkled leather?
Where have you been?

All alone.
Oiled in fear.
No stains.
But old scratches
Of repulsion.

Home

I dwell in those emotions

In your knowledge of my existence

In those tears not demanded

Within those suffocating fears

Beneath the pillow

Inside scattered vowels

Enclosed and sealed forever.