Bond and chotaa left early this morning..They are missed..
Watched a mind numbing movie called ‘I love you man’ till I fell asleep..Woke up at half past noon feeling much better, but numb all the same..
Avoided all contact with the rest of humanity, except the boy who delivered my lunch of daal and roti .. tipped him generously – he’s a nice regular guy ..plus he did not try to talk to me..
Watched Iqbal.. an OK movie tempered well by the presence of Girish Karnad and Naseeruddin Shah..
Wrote a bit..Stepped outside for some fresh air.. Tree outside my room greets me..
Movie again….I cannot bear the thought of having someone’s opinion shoved into my face and I do not want to risk being impolite…Avoid all conversations..
No opinions.. no thoughts.. no hatred.. no particular love..
fatigue? don’t think so ..boredom? definitely not..
I read a bit.. Write some more..
I guess it’s just a state of being..

Two good friends leave after a splendid weekend…Just watched Marley and Me – mindlessly pretty pink movie…It’s raining..And the Malaysian lamp glows in the darkness of the night..

I like the solitude..I’m loving my space- mine to give, mine to keep.

And the ring to keep me company ..Each breathing moment reminding me of sweet magic..

The day goes by in listlessness…Messy dreams, empty promises, absent people cloud the day ..There is no reason for anxiety but the worry line stays..Work is getting completed..People are cheerful..But it’s stormy somewhere all the same
I can, for a change , sit and not think..But all I need is some clarity..Wrap me up in a quilt of words..Soothe me with their philosophy.. sing me a tune with lyrics so pristine that this dull feeling creeps away with its insidiousness..

TO A POET A THOUSAND YEARS HENCE

by: James Elroy Flecker

I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.

I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.

But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?

How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Mæonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago.

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone:
I was a poet, I was young.

Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.

Mango Fruit flies
Flit over my head
Warm May morning

No 5- 7- 5 syllable structure.. Pretty much freestyle..Experimenting..

The other day, I read a rather innocuous article in the Hindu about a mother’s relief over the verdict passed against her son’s killer. 12 years ago, her son had died of bullets wounds when the Mumbai Police, allegedly resorted to indiscriminate firing to control a mob agitating against the desecration of Dr. Ambedkar’s statue. The courts had found the Police commissioner in charge at that time guilty.

I say innocuous, in that firstly , it had appeared in the bottom left corner of the last page of the paper. Secondly, in this great country of a billion plus, murders, injustice, agitations, scapegoats, indiscriminate firing, delayed justice are de rigeur, atleast to me. Even as I say this I feel no remorse, no shame, to admit that such incidents don’t move me as much as they did once( or so, I’d like to believe) upon a long long time ago.
But what did strangely register in my mind was the old lady’s plight. For her, the question that still lurked was “who had hung the garland of chappals on the statue?”
I do not know if the issue was politicized. I’m inclined to believe it was, as the incident occurred close to the elections. However, what Dr. Ambedkar symbolized to the many who had been discriminated against is something I cannot even begin to fathom. For that matter, I cannot comprehend what it means to be discriminated against, to live life in subjugation, a second citizen in a world you create..

The many worlds around me, that I so naively believe thread into mine in some way. ..

Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth

—Simone de Beauvoir; quoted by Smircich, 1985

I have never considered myself a feminist till I read the quote above. It evoked such deep empathy and comprehension within – I’m surprised! And for the record, the ideology here is sympathetic to all dominated groups, not restricted to women.

Sometimes all you can do is believe..

… Take me to any road in Bangalore, and I’ll know the the Chill ‘n’ ovens and the Ganesh Juice centers… ..I know the places that are open late and the ones that you can hit for an early morning filter coffee. .. I have my own jeweller, shoe shop, kulfi place.. I have memories tagged to tiny alleys.. The road behind Sacred Hearts’ Church, the cargo lane next to the airport, Airline’s hotel, Old Madras road and how it was many years ago at midnight, all the crosses of Indiranagar..

I’ve been here long enough to talk about the changes.. It’s the place where I came in as a 17 year old just out of school.. It’s also the place that today, 8 years later, I call home… It’s a place, Vatal Nagaraj and his cohorts apart, where you get taken in warmly, no matter who you are and where you’re from..

Yes, Bangalore is my spirit.. But, always, yes always, Delhi is my soul…

Well how about that friend who called up with some really scandalous gossip? And you shared a great laugh ..

How about getting to know that someone whose blogs you read earnestly happens to like your writing too?

Then there’s Yoga.. The red carnations…(they have decided to stay a little longer) .. Some ‘comfort food’ ..

And yes! The Prof whom you absolutely adore calls you to co-ordinate a project for her.. Not to mention, the other Prof whom you highly respect offers to let you in on any one of the many projects he has in the pipeline..Delighted, indeed!

Then of course, the magician – who is always in style..He keeps up with his spells and can charm you off your feet – if only you believe!

Do I see a pattern? Not really … Which is what makes it wonderful! Happiness could come in from any corner..