Mirage

can you breathe into me and make me more real.......

2009-02-11T22:56:00.000-08:00

Wish I could be a poet.

Wish i could describe in meaningful, profound, terms the incredible ennui and tiredness, which makes you refresh your mailbox for the 1000th time without knowing why, mindlessly delete all the incoming mails, refresh that orkut screen again and again, browse through old pics and try to play around with a few, well ...do everything except what you have to do.

Wish I could wax lyrical about the way my room looks in the afternoon when it rains and I switch off the lights, draw the curtains and let the delicious earthy , murky greyness and scent seep in..the cool ,calmness ..the stolidity of it, the strains of the music in the background and the whitish softness of the sheets when I lie in bed just like that..

Wish music did not sound so harsh when I leave it on for sometime and return to it after a while, when I am doing something else. The preppy bouncy number takes on jarring ..accusatory overtones and also sounds incredibly loud..

Wish you were not so far away..

Wish I could fall in love with a new song everyday..

Wish I could describe in detail how I feel when i do discover a song I can fall in love with..or the warm satisfaction of repeated playings after that..

Wish I could remember where I lost that book, I am suddenly reminded of it even as I am typing this, and I am upset that I lost it while shifting..

Wish I could be all informed and deep and have an opinion about many things. I dont have an opinion abt most..but I do have the facts( as an afterthought)

Wish I could write well enough to describe the warmth of my hands clasped around a coffee cup on a cold morning..Its like putting iodex or smelling vicks..umm if u care for these things:-s

Wish i could make beautiful music..

Wish I could dream up the lyrics I am listening to right now..

"When ur born ur afraid of the darkness/ And then ur afraid of the light”- Aerosmith, Taste of India.

So when did we stop exploring the world for ourselves and began to believe in what was told and accepted? When did we start constraining what we did or felt because we saw others doing it.. ..and when did we stop believing that we could be otherwise? When did ecstatic happiness give way to measured expressions of joy? When did uninhibited enthusiasm give way to cautiousness, when did the stars give way to practical goals? When were dreams constrained? When did we not want to seek any light beyond what we already knew, and when did we become content basking in its glory? When did we start loving the darkness because it bought the illusion of a new light the next day?? And when was it that we stared saying ...I wish instead of I will..

Someone, between the sanctified sleep and silence

2009-01-04T20:32:00.001-08:00

Hmm….I will give you some red..just a sprinkling. I will let the red run slowly between my fingers into your outstretched palm. I will let the sun play tricks with your eyes so that it looks crimson one instant and fiery orange the next instant.

I will let you feel the sun against your face and I will let it conjure up visions behind your closed eyes. I'll let you feel the silken red touch of a rose petal dipped with dew.

I will let you feel the heat of the red brick pavement burning your feet as you run across it, I will let you imagine the crimson splash of the sun as it sets into the sea of your dreams.

I will let you finger the silk of your red shawl as you drape it over your head to shield yourself from the sun and feel the dark red coolness like wet vermilion splayed across your palm.

And as the clouds gather I'll give you some blue. I'll sprinkle it all over and let it become the droplets drenching you.

I will sprinkle it faster and let it become the spray you always imagined, the sea spray of the bluish milkish water caressing your feet and I will let you feel the cool grayish blue of the slippery rocks as you hold on to them.

I will let you soak yourself in the inky blackness of the night sky in the desert and the cool sparkle of the full moon.

I will let you run the sand between your fingers, blue or brown. And I'll let you dwell on slate grey thoughts and inkish blue desires.

I will spray the air with green , adding water to the colour. I'll take you to hope , to freshness to newness to palm fronded aspirations, to grass rooted beliefs, to patina tinted memories.

I will let you mix the colours and paint your own story.

My_Broken_Song

2008-10-14T10:12:00.000-07:00

I'm writing a song for you. A song with words so fresh and green that it would remind you of the times you walked with me and the air was full of promise and the world was full of laughter and dreams were but an inch away from reality and home was shelter and warmth and love was the clear, bubbling water of the brook, unshackled and unhindered.
The "words" would twist around that happy moments and there would be words and games, a play on words, there would be less spontaneous prose and more calculated undertones, there would be lines between the lines, spinning a tale of sorts, spinning the picture into havoc and it would remind you of hurt and tears and willful acts , of times when laughter was more contrived and conversation more guarded, when the brook was dry and the remaining water listless , and the world held foreboding and the air was heavy with the smell of rain.
The words would slowly unravel as the tone would become calmer , there would be philosophy, there would be experience , words of erudition backed by learning, words of age and age old, words picked carefully with a wealth of meaning, for those few who understood(if it was and worth understanding in the first place )or thought they did, and it would remind you of patience and discretion and of wisdom over emotions, of icy cool water washing away the distortions in the picture, which would emerge new though faded and not so colorful , divested of its vibrancy but toned down and pleasant and the brook would fill again , but the water would not dance over the pebbles but be frozen into ice and the world would be a set of rules and the air would be devoid of feeling.
I would then raise the music to a crescendo, the beats would shake you from your reverie and tear through that page of written words, and it would remind you of the music in you, within you ..but would you remember how to dance??

And God told there be light……She is…

2008-03-09T23:54:00.001-07:00

The shutter let in the light, mellow at first, warm and dewy with that delicious thrill of the early morning breeze, that sharp and nippy air, in an instant so cold that it brought goose pimples and the wild bursts of euphoria.
The air of night had been warm and stuffy, but now she loved the cool feel of the pillow against her skin. That brief steamy grayness specked with gold, like someone spraying grey ink on a canvas of the long forgotten painting..that of a tempest..smoothening it out, so that the waves looked still and calm and the occasional ripples of gold as they glowed in the sun only held the promise..
She did shut her eyes to that image and held on to that promise….
But the light became too harsh… too demanding…too fraught with worry..restless with the guilt of unfulfilled promises..
And the day wore on listless and dull ..the air smelled dank…heavy with despair..
She closed the shutter as the evening approached and the wind …as restless as ever was lashing out with a wild frenzy…And she waited. Her thoughts were brooding and dark , mirroring the transition of the world from a hazy practical blue to a slate grey…dark and obscuring…comforting and she grew calmer as if lulled into a false sense of security..enveloped and hidden by the fast approaching gloom..She found solace in that gloom..
But the very sharp glint of the street lights being turned on, the unforgiving orange glow which hurt her eyes and drew out bead of frustration, that sharp jolt back to reality..the snapping of a thread
It was night again..

HARI SADU

2007-04-07T05:56:00.000-07:00

Please excuse me if i am encroaching upon frail boundaries. But in this small write-up i want to trace a fact, a feeling that most of us must have been through. The feeling of unrestrained elation on Friday evening and a gloom set all around the very next to next day. I am talking of the latest buzzword in corporate world called 'HARI SADU SYNDROME' (of course it’s me to coin this term and would like to patent it before it becomes a big hit).
Let’s talk of those people who wittingly or unwittingly, willingly or unwillingly fall into the category of office haters. The obvious question that strikes one is this: why is it that most of us, and not all as some suffer from other maladies (My office is the best) and i don’t think it any bit wrong, after all at the end of the day what counts is what u are happy doing at, whether it be the PC at office or the bike on road. I call the first type of people as 1st type' and the others as '2nd type'. How very innovative and convenient, isn't it, after all working for a few years definitely hastens your creativity and for convenience, its the armor that keeps you going. For some the base is set right from the beginning, only the dough has to be cast. Now enuf of mongering, lets come straight to the point, after all i have promised the write-up to be small. So the 1st question that comes naturally is why so anguish, so desolation. Since we (from now on WE symbolizes a subset of the people belonging to the 1st type) are so stereotype from the very beginning that we tend to follow the path treaded by others culminating into a fat salary, a social reputation (society needs a redefinition although), and a more than modest comfortable life. As nothing of value comes cheap we bargain for our innate desire, now here is a catch.... we compromise mainly because we do not know that it’s the desire that we are trading off, else there would be a definite melee to break free. Its later when we are in a position where we can take out moments to think, to rejuvenate and decide what excites us most ... not on short term but over a longevity, that we ponder over what we could have done. But still bound by necessities, obligations and a more overpowering fear of failure (Since individualism is still to preach and not to be followed), we find the right excuse, the right motive in continuing, and sneer at someone who dares to break the shackles. But the submission is temporary and the diversion an illusion, coming out of it we realsise that the routine task gives us bread topped with ham and cheese but not peace of mind, we feel dejected, not that we have been betrayed, but that we have betrayed ourselves. We feel so buried, sunken so low into the chasm that every effort seems trivial. Now talk of other category of people, one who have realised what they want from life, they have all reasons to be happy and committed. They want to pave their own way, steer their boats the way they like and not to be guided by the wind. These are a class of people who have envisioned a dream and the workplace is like heaven which nurtures their dream into reality. But is their dream of carving a masterpiece of their own in itself a dream. You have numerous opportunities to grow, but not to grow something of your own is the latent mantra not proclaimed but evident. Why to reinvent the wheel, when you have the COPY PASTE option :). The guys/gals are dismayed and the dough is cast. 'Last but the least', this is what my HR in ex company used to say, and may be it's different from the original, but at least he tried to be different :). Here is a group which is unhappy about not being able to feel happy, a kind of oxymoron, a predicament which is difficult to get to since you don’t know where to start from. These are the kind of people are still struggling to identify why they don’t like anything in particular, they are like a caterpillar coming out of the shell and trying to ape the butterfly. They get disgruntled at slight provocation and in flashes decide what they want to do, just to dump it the very next moment. These are of the kind who are in a state of constant ambivalence, but when they do have the atmbodh as is rightly called they leave no stone unturned to pursue the call. There may be finer categories which I have ignored or not foreseen, but with such a humble mind and no nonsense attitude my vision of demarcating has gone down. However one thing is for certain, the mix of all these classes adds spice and makes the workplace workable. The churning and unchurning of feelings, emotions and even of people joining and leaving has profound impact on the way we feel and act. It may seem as an exaggeration of calling the boss as H for Hitler, A for arrogant and R for rascal, but you do smile every time you see this ad.

My Girl

2007-03-14T01:53:00.000-07:00

It all started on the cloudy night of 11th of July 2004, the day before i joined Infosys. The events to unfurl shrouded my life for the days to come. It was my first job, thru campus selection, and i was excited and nervous at the same moment, like a fish which leaves the pond for the ocean. College life is different from professional and that too in one of the most reputed organisations of India. I had left the rosy bed, and would be fighting to get a foothold. Can i survive the warm air out there and more importantly can i survive?
Caught between these turmoil’s i went to see others of the same flock, who have also come to join along with me. I vividly recall that the whole group had the same level of apprehension, and i kind of felt comfortable. It’s but human to feel safe when all are sailing in the same boat.
There i met people from various places, of different temperament and different philosophies of life ..... yet we had one thing in common , a sense of comaradrie, and hence many of them have become my pal for the rest of my life. We shared our past, experiences and also the would be future, everyone putting a different shade to the discussion ... that was exhilarating, and helped in toning down my trepidation. After the dinner we parted to meet the next day, in our new abode Infosys... and there is where i saw her for the 1st time, it was 12th of July 2004, the most cherished and memorable day of my life.
The day came and went in a fizzy; but i was too preoccupied with her memories (although i only had a glimpse) to notice anything else and carried on the joining formalities with robotic exploit. I tried in vain to look for her, but could not find her again and felt a starnge kind of emotion, a vacuum inside me, no emotions at all, a strange chill of emptiness. I had waited for this day for so long when i would be working for a big conglomerate, and when it materialized i don’t feel anything, Have i gone nuts. Why had she become so important when i had just seen her once, leave apart talking to her?.
We were allocated cubicle and i prayed with my heart and soul that she gets the adjacent one. I had never prayed with such vigor and fidelity and the call to the unknown almighty was rewarded, she sat just next to me... inside the same cubicle on my left. She was good looking with a chubby face and a sweet smile, but in total she was endearing and inescapable, u have to have a look at her if you pass through. I gave her the name miki, how and why is beyond my comphresnion. Later i came to know of her real name when it was displayed on the notice board. What a coincidence, the real name was so much aligned to one i had contemplated.

The friendship started budding if not flourishing with much pains taken from my end. We used to chat at times, go out for tea break and i became ingenious in crafting excuses to be with her. I was not just captivated by her charm, but totally mesmerised. She was happy-go-lucky type contrary to my reserved demeanor, full of energy and life. I had developed a kind of admiration for her defying all logic, and at one point of time i became so possessive that i hated if other talked of her, and later used to laugh at my folly.

My dream palace came crashing down when i heard from her that she has a boyfriend. I could not believe my ears and wanted to run away. How could i, who has never ever thought bad of anyone be punished of no sin, how can i bear this trauma. I was speechless and just nodded encouragingly. Dark clouds have started howering , as some of the colleagues started talking abt us which she took as a personal affront and limited our interactions. I was dumbfound and could not do much, all my efforts to gain back the confidence went futile. I was running through rough patch, i had seen a dream and it turned out to be a nightmare. With sheer anger and helplessness i also went into cocoon and saw the distance increasing between us. The most aching part in ones life is when u know you need to do a lot, but your hand are tied, you want to speak but your throat is parched, you want to walk but your legs are sore.

I could not take much of this and asked for transfer, may be the new place will help erode the previous memories. Mysore was a lovely place but the loneliness was dissolving the very me of me. All my friends advised me to get out of this, and rightly so, still i had no qualms abt it. But i had a stint of a stay as destiny has destined me to be with her, on project request i was moved back to HYD. But much water has passed in the time being, i had also been prejudiced and saw her through smoky glass. The new venture into HYD was equally loathsome: someone passed obscene mails from a new id to her account and god knows how i was framed. I was more dismayed than embarrassed on hearing this, and even more hurt when she reacted. Can someone go to such levels? and how can she even think that i would be part of such a misdemeanor, however sour the relation may have turned. I did not try to put up a fight, i did not want to prove anything, the only thing i wanted was to get out of this place, go anywhere i could find solace.

Time is the greatest healer, but the scar remains. We rekindled the friendship, but the warmth never came back, we traversed the same road but never deliberately to meet again. The next one year moved at a lethagic pace, with few memories worth enunciating,.The shackles had been broken but no effort made from either side to bring together the broken pieces. After my one year stay at hyderabad, she moved out to Chennai. This did not came to me as a blow, for ones psyche is like a body, which if punched again and again accepts the next blow without noticing the damage that it inflicts.

We are like puppets in the hands of destiny, for i endured what i never dared to cogitate. My life had come a full circle, i had fallen in love, got dejected, moved out then back again, just to discover that this time she too has moved out. There are moments in life when you look back and reason what could have been done to make it better. May be i could have been assertive, could have stood by my conviction instead of letting things go awry, and least of all not allowed other deeds shape up my destiny.

After she went to Chennai, i had this ambivalence, on one end i was disappointed not to see her again, on the other it was a kind of relief to realise that this is the worst that could happen. Although i could never desist from thinking of her, but there was a gradual acceptance of her loss with a state of being so inured to helpnesses that it ceases to complain.

Life has taken a new turn, i have become more controlled, more sublime, taking life in bits and pieces as it may come, much more cautious in forging relationship, and try my best to live it and enjoy to the fullest. I may have gone through those ordeals, but had much to gain than to loose. Now i cherish the moments that i have lived and take full stride in all my endeavors. But one thing remains where it was, my love for her. My 'self' may have been chastised, my soul shackled and my naivety humbled, but Miki still has a corner in my heart, and whatever said and done she is my Girl.

Chal chaiya chaiya

2007-03-12T06:36:00.000-07:00

Have you seen people protruding their head out of a fast moving auto on a busy road, if your answer is negative then you need to visit HYD. No its not lifted from a James Bond sequel , its a daily ritual for most of us that i am talking of.
I have tried to present before you a normal day's adventure in the life of the most run of the mill living creature 'we the human being' or more precisely the working class fraternity of HYD.
Any pun in this writeup is intended and any any scorn deliberate :).
The word auto in hyderabad is a misnomer, its actually formula1 cars mounted on 3 wheels with super heroes flaunting the steering. Autowala is much more than the celluloid figure whom we adore the most. With his maneuverings, posters all around the auto and the mellifluous music its true to say that he is Vin Diesel, Picasso and Elvis pressed in one.
This enlightenment will come to you natural, the only investment required is a trip from Madhapur to Ameerpet.
The life enriching experience of an autoride starts way before you actually step into an auto. While you walk upto the stand the autowala traces your wearabouts and lurches at you with supersonic speed. Even before you inch backwards or sidewards, the auto makea a 270 degree turn and block ur way. Its the test of your reflexes where you are bound to fail, however prepared you may be.
Hobson's choice: get inside the auto or wait for the next meber of the elite auto clan to walk you through the gruesome experience once again.
Now that you are in their territory you are at their mercy, in fact you had little choice from the very start.
To make you forget the psychological trauma that you have endured, the autowala will put on the music. Its usually a remix of the highest order, the kind of which you never ever dared to think of, and the kind of which you will never ever dare to think of again.
The Bass and treble are so soft and rythmic that inadvertently you fall in love with it and politely request the autorider to lower the volume or stop it altogether. But the look on his face keeps you mum for at least the remaining part of the journey. The proportianate mix of hate and disgust on his face speaks volumes. You appear to him as a descendent of a native of the zulu tribe, with little artistic sense for such a symphony. He neither mocks at the paucity of your urbane taste, nor ridicules you, but shows indifference for a creature so deprived. To shunt away from the blaring music and his piercing eyes, u have no second alternative than to pock ur neck out of the auto.
Gradually u get accustomed to your newly formed habitat, and start concentrating on hoding fast to the seat, this because it had already moved out and u are in mid air. U push it, shove it and apply ur brain cells how to stick it in proper place, but the architecture is such that no matter what u do it finds a way of getting out. After all its not only we mortal souls who crave for independence. And to be honest its a boon in disguise, u know how to stand in rough weather, as the old adage says 'as the going gets tougher, the tougher gets going'. So u see, u also have a philosophical dimension to this untiring journey.
The moment you step out of the auto u are a thoroughly changed man. The journey has turned your approach towards life, and you start seeing the brighter side of the day. Thanks to the half an hr journey u are a matured man, someone for whom life is no more a mystery, one who has seen all the vicissitude of life in such a short span of time and has started appreciating anything and everything that he comes across. You have found the inevitable inner peace and so you look around smile at no one and start humming the same song played a couple of minutes ago : 'chal chahiya chaiya'.

who am i .. still on the lookout

2007-03-09T23:01:00.000-08:00

The most daunting task i have ever witnessed, was to speak abt myself. Never ever thought that i know so little on this issue ..... Was it the self or an attempt to put in the best face that chocked my throat ??
The ordeal started as a part of my interview preparation for XL.
'Tell me something abt urself' began with a bang and ended with a whimper, and to add insult to injury a cursory glance at my watch put on the bludgeon;only a single minute had elapsed.
It meant that i can at best talk for a minute of my past 20+ years .. (wont let u guess my actual age).... what a shame. This reminds me of a metaphorical saying that we can see the universe in a soap bubble. But hey this is no soapy business, its my interview ....... that too for a single call ... so have got to buckle my shoes, or else will have an year more to ponder on the trivialities of my good/bad old days..
Then came the next one a real blinder and more sinister than the previous one ..... WHY M.B.A ??.
Dont they get bored hearing the same story again and again, everyone plays safe and repeats the prepared stuff relegiously, with added flavour of course to make it look different and original. Should i tell them that it's a different level of plagiarism, copying someones else thought (may be in itself a reprocessed junkie) and put it in a new plate ....
anyways their apetite does not seem to be for a new cuisine , so i will feed them the same old bread with a thick layer of butter.However i had this realisation that its great being on the other side of the table ...... musing on others expense.
The subsequent discussion was equally elusive and only a divine intervention could have changes the status quo, which to my dismay was even beyond divinity.
The only take home from this mock drill was the self realisation of my utmost sincerity in doing nothing for so long and a half hearted disgust for the panelist who made me realise this. The other half knew that the disgust was for my ownself embodied in different forms ....
Back home, with laptop on my lap (obviously where else can i keep it) i tried to search my soul .. tried to find from other lives the motto of my living .. google failed me for the 1st time and so did wikipedia, where else can i catch my soul if not on the cybernet. Such a herculian task .... finally after much mental, physical and economical (cost of use internet) fatigue i found solace on the rocks, hence the same title to the blog. To my amazement the flood gates started opening up and the answers came to me like a gushing stream, thats why its sane to be insane at times. I had tranceded the boundaries in search of myself (who am i) and the final destination is my NIRVANA.