The Jack in the Box is Always Ready to Scare You

There is this emptiness that time carries. We don't know what do with it. It's not like we don't have dreams or even the enthusiasm to do a million things. I do have these dreams, these wishes, those that dear people share with me. But, the times comes when you sit with them staring at a white wall behind the smoke, tired of hearing the Television set grumble all day long. What do we do? What can we do?
Stumped!
I am jobless today, because I cannot think.

And the World Begins, again!

The old man stood in front of me and told me college is not good for such minds as mine. Another bearded old man said college is going to be a compulsory part of my life, inevitable and necessary. I chose to listen to the bearded man, as I have for the past 19 years and I needn't change that now. 

Fourth Semester paints a new red mark on the college board, and quietly managed to enlighten me about the process. As an institution, anything from family to college could get dysfunctional at all points of time. But, one has to surely understand, at least after an age, that they are an equal functional unit responsible for the balance of the institutional processes. Imagine an ecosystem, and draw an intricate web of the all the species, then you will know every system is purely the same. Every unit is functional and responsible, though some may be replaceable. 

Here is why I have suddenly found some interest in writing proactively about college. This is because, this semester is filled with two of my favourite words in English language: diverse and random. History of India - III (Freedom Movement: 1758 to 1947) has a brilliant Professor handling the paper. First of all, one of the few Professors with a great command over English, moreover, he is a person who demands you to read and work. He walked into our class on the first day and has been delivering wonderful lectures on Periodization of History and Developing Trends in India during the 18th Century. This is why I am in college. 

Introduction to Archaeology and Museology is good fun, because I never really expected to be learning this. A nice professor, and new things to learn. This is quite exciting to look forward to. And then, I continue with Elements of Sociology, and I quite enjoy writing that paper. For one, I score well, and two, it has some interesting reading material to go with the topics. 

Now, probably, the best of all, and a paper I never expected to be studying is Music and Literature. It has been great fun sitting in that room that smells like a studio (which always proves to be nostalgic and pleasant). Studying Musicology is really good fun, and he relates it to English and Tamil literature. Today, he was talking to us about Music as an Art form, and then as a temporal Art form. This course really inspires me to put on the sruthi box and practice in the evenings. He concluded by saying that Sound and Time are the two bodily elements of Music, that define and create it. 

The only sad news, I am yet to get over, is that this is the last semester of General English. I really love studying English Litt and there goes my last chance of doing it in college. It has been good so far, and I only hope this is one of the best semesters in that regard. The Merchant of Venice and a Nick Adams story, are some of the things I am really looking forward to delving my head in. However, we've also made some changes in class patterns and I might end up doing a lot of Tamil translation this semester. 

Side by side, Chai Kadai is going really great for me. I have found some brilliant people to write for it and if you are reading this, and have a story for it, please do email it to us at chaikadai@gmail.com True, true, I am putting out the Chai Kadai label wherever I can, and I have figured that is probably the best way to get people to speak: Tell them, they can! 

Otherwise, I have been experimenting with a little bit of writing here and there. I hope to finish NanoWriMo somehow. As usual, I have an assignment in head and that is why a blog post is flowing so easily. I have refilled my Rotring pen and hope to see some of the ink flowing on to paper somehow. I am no longer interested in creating art as such, I am only interested in creating myself and for that I am going to let a lot of things flow. 

Academically, this Semester sees a small bit of pride for me in the hidden pockets. My French teacher called some of us and told us there are some students in Sacred Hearts Matriculation, Shozhinganallur, who need French classes. She thinks, we will be able to handle it. I will be going over there, tomorrow. Let's see how that goes. 

Overall, a good set of months that have started well. I hope to save up a bit and travel this December. Whatever works and whatever doesn't, this year I am going to have my best Christmas and New Year, for I've been deserving one for a very long time. 

Goo goo night ! :)

Bombay Days.

Every time I hear your voice in my head I cannot wait to write you down. It seems like ages since I've put pen on paper or fingers on keys. Somehow all of this does not matter, because in some weird way all my sense fly away and all the words are written down....I have a dream...a voice...I'm hanging on to something I know nothing off...It really doesn't matter what I think and do, it's what I feel and do that matters. To do I need no thought. 20.10.2008 I am not searching for a living. I am looking for a medium of 'search'. Who cares if I do not become "professionally" able in everything I try. If the point of being is to make a fool oneself. Then it shall be done with no sarcasm and cynicism. What is the whole damn point??? 20.10.2008 Watching out of the train at the expanse of the sea we were travelling on: Like a million people standing very close to each other, between the cities stands a smog dome. It's suffocating not able to see a horizon. But...20.10.2008 I am always getting ready to explain why or what I did...I always have a fabricated excuse....the point is to create what I want and how I want it. It's the point of putting pen on paper and leaving the words and lines to flow. 21.10.2008 'The world keeps happening.' The only sentence apt to describe this city. It's an absolutely alive place that has managed to scare me and yet make it seem like a home. :) 21.10.2008 I'm only as free as I feel. I am only what I feel. 21.10.2008 It's always him-me, she-me, hers-mine, his-mine, theirs-mine, Them-Me...Comparison!!! Language is starting to sicken me. It limits one expression to a certain set of words. Bluh blaaah bloooh! 22.10.2008 It really hurts till the center of my tummy that I made of no talent or beauty at all. 24.10.2008 The train should not stop. Home? I am confused. A complete part of me has been left within four wall of pink in a completely different city. No.. I am not going home! If the train never stops, I will never know where I'm going and will never be force to end or begin. But wishes are merely wishes, because if they weren't I would have got off the train, because one must do what they have to do most of the times. 27.10.2008

buddha feared death

I live in a comfort zone. Every pilgrim first lives in a comfort zone, and then one moves away, because of fear, guilt, confusion and whole baggage of negativity. Enlightenment is the positive acceptance of negativity. However, even I have the strong need to overcome the fear of death, but the motive is not one of immortality. It simply a coverage for another fear. By overcoming the fear of my death, I deal with happy acceptance of the time and reason, but here I hide to myself and rejoice loudly in the fact that I do not have to watch the death of others as an immortal. Because I fear immortality more than my death, and want to prevent watching the disappearance of those I know. Even the thought of their demise makes me shiver like I've been buried in a fresh avalanche.

12.55 a.m. on a random day, October 2008

and so what is the purpose?

Where beauty lies the green snake slithers it way through the ponds. And lovely small slit eyes watch the panorama of ghazals and sitars. All we hear can be are of beautiful butterflies fluttering there little bright wings. I feel like painting them on a humongous canvas. The beautiful beautiful reason of watching things is to tilt our heads slightly and find something new. Watch. Wait. Breathe. Go slow happily.

Segmented

That ratty man was crawling towards the kitchen counter. He was tip-toeing successfully, but was being watched. His sharp snout, severe ears, and dry grey fur were followed by a segmented, fleshy long tail. Yuck! I’ve always hated to watch him. This instance made it no different. It just affirmed my belief that rats are male, and mice are female. I had no choice, but to boil in disgust and fear. I stood on my bed watching his ugly tail swish about. I could not stop him, for I would I have had to get close enough to smell him for that. So, I decided to watch him, devour him, and let him walk to death. Then, I can ask my maid to throw him in to the street dust bin.

Windows

an old speech (and some comments) I had to make in School. I was quite happy to find this. Written on 5.12.2004. Forgive the standard of English in places. I did not want to edit.

Good morning! For today, I was asked to speak about windows. While preparing I looked up a lot of books on the architectures of arches, wooden joints, window frames, and so on. Then, one of my teachers came along and gave me a book of zen quotes. Hereby, I will be referring to symbolic windows; those that our minds possess. Not to worry, they are very similar to our house windows and that easy to understand. But think about closing all these windows and sitting inside. The house will become claustrophobic. Now, understand the mind as house, a home that harbours thoughts, feelings, opinions, contemplations, criticisms, emotions and views. Close these windows! Imagine never letting anyone of these getting a breath of fresh air: the company of expression. We're left with suffocated minds. Heads that hurt, and lives that are entwined. Very early in our life, we learn hard to put bolts on these windows when confronted by certain concepts. Let it be politics, friendship, sex, or even music, dance and paint. Then, we keep strengthening these bolts keeping an eye all the excuses that make this right. We refuse to speak to people darker than us. We refuse to speak to people shorter than us. We refuse to listen to people who speak too slow. We refuse to look at people with short hair. However, one has to realize that we are social beings and we have to keep 'interaction' and 'expression' an alive part of our lives. We have to break down these bolts. It is a personal effort. We need to ventilate our minds. We need to use the windows. A person who is 'open' will be able to receive and therefore give better. (And I actually said: to make sure nothing too terrible happens in this vulnerable position we could fit mosquito nets). Windows are basically frames through which one can look. These windows are special. Though open enabling us to look out, it has a reflective quality attached to it. It looks back into the self. Life is a changing path. Both mistakes and successes have to be taken at stride, with openness. If we are insecure, it is because we have suffocated ourself. We need space to think. We need to open this windows to become secure creating a stability and willingness to learn.

A poet named Donovan Holtz said, "Through a window, I watch, windows are, for watching - Square pieces of life, ever changing." These frames provide two contrary needful aspects: confinement and openness. There are times when we have to take the lead, and there are times when we have to step back and wait. One should be attentive and then they can learn to not get hurt, and not hurt. It is very important to create a free space. It gives one a strong choice. But, one will think more, because they actually 'listen' to more versions of life. Then one becomes open to even criticizing statements, just because we waited and listened. It bends everything to make it constructive, and gives the power in the self to construct the truth and belief of life in a sensible manner. It is in our hands to not take advantage or be taken advantage of.

Thank you.

Ego is a funny creature and I attribute a 'he' to him. He has bright blue eyes that blind with simple tears, and that burn with victorious laughter. My Ego is blue, sleeps in my palm, and has very quick feet. We all own him. We all own a kind of him. When he takes his morning run he hurts my thighs and arms. I try to hold him back, but he flies. His wings are ferocious and hard. They hit me when he needs, wants, yearns. Ego taught me love, because he loves wearing pride as a cloak.

rajasthan village woman who fed me dinner - bhajra rotis

I found this woman in the sky, the land of the stars, where the milky way was mine and hers! A secret revealed at 5.30 a.m. Is a secret of Suns and Moons and Flowers new?

Then hear them clearly:

It started to rain and then it began to pour. Warps and wefts of water, reflections of skies of stories fell horizontally on my scalp. We caught it in our palms, waking up in the dance of our feet. Footsteps got louder and louder and louder. The yells in my ears were like the suddenness of trains in a dark tunnel. Booming. Whispering. Tiring. Sigh!

Moon Songs

Midnight pen and paper love stories have been on a long humid vacation. Tonight, it's raining. I will write. The spiral in my head wants a rest, but it keeps on spinning, singing to the vanishing eye. My heart is palpitating like the pushing and pulling of tides in a vast ocean. The dim bulb is flickering, and humming: when what I cherish dies, love alone stays. For the miles we are apart and the trains that drag us closer to each other, there is a song. The moon usually sings it to us when we take a break from the road and sleep on the shore of our tides. The beat bellows into our deaf ears. Tonight, I am learning to listen to my tides, and the spiral in my head. I am learning to restart a childhood and eat mangoes in the middle of a night. I am learning to climb and fall off bunk-beds. I am feeling alive. I am breathing. I can hear the purple sky dance with the moon and the dark green mango leaves. I can sleep and snore. I can sigh. I can love. Lovely!

A man flying in his dreams....sleeps

click on it to see in original size!

inhaling

The world is always spinning and it is like a treadmill. It's just that we don't feel the tiresome work of our knees. Is the world too slow for me? I ran onto the road; getting drenched in the untimely rains and hail. The shores of the Bay are boiling and sinking, an alternate balance. A blue hand descends upon my head and the road just keeps growing. It presses down my head till my neck and shoulders hurt. I love the fact that I do not know where I am going. Would rather have a body very close to me, whispering into my ears, ruffling my hair, and laughing. I would rather smoke just rises all around my feet, engulfs my knees, hips, breasts, neck, and face. Tendrils of hair fly about and wait to be caught in between fingers. The smoke has clouded my vision. I sit down in one of the most peaceful falls, a trance seeps into my head, tears open meshes, and meditation sets in.

19/11/2007

A sunny morning on a far way hill station and the birds were chirping with exceptional happiness. The air smelled of jasmine and dancing lotuses. Humans have never set foot in this land. The patterns of Nature are perfect. However, even the intruder is a creation of this Nature. If you go to this land, you will see an eternal rainbow. this rainbow never dies. A spectrum of all colours and differences live together.

the song of solomon

pedallers

who are you?

I am slowly getting over my fear of clowns. A Quentin Blake dream is the only knight-in-silver-armor.

a dolphin beetle story

black face woman

stand alone, watch the birds fly off your sill, the same road features again. Bloom.

moksha trainers