The second attempt

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I wake up as the morning light gently caresses my cheeks,
and I blush in the sanguine sweetness of its beguiling embrace.
I open my eyes to behold the vivid light in its proud glory,
And fill my mind with score memories of the life that has been,
And with pert awe for the life that will soon be.
Sitting on the balcony I look at the spry world outside,
The symphonic morning drizzle falling soft on my toes.
I gaily see the now familiar faces through the azure drops,
The cup of tea in my hand a sign of completeness.

Betimes life can be a little hazy, a little less beckoning,
But just beyond the foggy veil, lies its ceaseless verdure.
The revered words of the wise men remind of our duty to be happy,
But what is life without the awing trials and the delightful seven.
A gush of wind brings me back from the vise of such myriad thoughts,
And I smile, for yet again, I am seduced by the esotericism of life.
The wet air around me stirs a little and I quiver in its sensuous touch,
I can’t hear the message in the air or draw the cue in its touch,
Only, there is a feeling that something wonderful is happening.

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My attempt at prose

I do scribble things on and off.......as and when it occurs to me........could be while waiting at the airport or sitting at the coffee shop..........and never really make an attempt to save and collect them.........

discovered this on my laptop a couple of days back....... wrote it a couple of months back.........

will try and dig out more from the lost archives.......:)


Warning: Lower your expectation before beginning :)

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I sit by myself looking out side the window,
The morning breeze gently kissing my cheeks
The birds on the tree outside are doing their morning chores
I am doing mine, sipping hot steaming tea sitting on a tripod by the window

This is how my day begins everyday
I open the window to the world and let the light take me over
There is warmth in my heart and an unfading smile on my face
There is completeness within myself, completeness with the world outside

And today it’s different
I open the door to the world and sit by myself sipping the hot tea
But today is different
There is warmth in my heart and an unfading smile on my face
And…and there is love all around

The wind brushes my hair on the forehead
And I am reminded of something
The wind kisses my bare neck
And I am reminded of something

I can’t take the smile off my face; instead, there is a glow
I can’t shut the twinkle in my eyes, instead, there are tears
I can’t reduce the warmth in my heart; instead, there is a longing
I can’t erase the completeness in my soul, instead there is peace

I have always been in love with life
I have always loved the world the way it is
Now, they are welcoming me with arms wide open
And I am willingly losing myself in their embrace.

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well?.........

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Haiku

Haiku is a poetic form and a type of poetry from the Japanese culture. Haiku combines form, content, and language in a meaningful, yet compact form. Haiku poets write about everyday things. Many themes include nature, feelings, or experiences. Usually they use simple words and grammar.

The most common form for Haiku is three short lines. The first line usually contains five (5) syllables, the second line seven (7) syllables, and the third line contains five (5) syllables. Haiku doesn't rhyme. The content of a haiku is typically, but not always, focused on what a person witnesses in everyday life that is more outstanding or important than normal, something deemed worth reaching for in written expression.

A Haiku must "paint" a mental image in the reader's mind. This is the challenge of Haiku - to put the poem's meaning and imagery in the reader's mind in ONLY 17 syllables over just three (3) lines of poetry. My favorite part of writing haiku is finding the 'awe' that is usually passed by without notice.

A friend recently introduced me to this. And I am hooked:)…. The simple words and equally simple style of writing is so fascinating. Not only does it allow your creative side to surface it also allows you to see beauty in the simple things in life that you might have otherwise overlooked.

You can find the work of few of the famous Haiku poets here… http://www.toyomasu.com/haiku/

Meanwhile……here’s my amateurish attempt at it……….

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Little dark boy,

In the puddle on the road-

Laughter like rain on tin.

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Merciless nights,

Hope elusive as hope.

And then, dawn.

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Hard day-

Summer heat wearing you out.

Sleep comes to rescue.

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Little girl in a little frock,

Chasing butterflies in the sun-

Life of innocence.

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Local train,

Treading along in the summer heat,

Heartbeat of the city.

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Old books-

Pages rustling like autumn leaves-

Myriad of memories.

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Window seat-

Vivid images flying by.

And inside-memories.

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Neighborhood garden-

Winter leaves and springtime blossoms.

Still no child to play.

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Lemme know what you think....... ;)

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Festival time…….

Just posting to convince myself that I still blog...... :)


Today was one of those days when I missed mom more than ever. I was teriblly missing her mouth-watering Pongal……:)

I went around the office asking (read begging) my fellow-tamilians for some pongal which, as it happens, no one had to spare…… after my successful attempt to make them feel guilty for not being thoughtful enough n and of getting promises of getting it tomorrow I returned to my desk to see what wikipedia had to say about Pongal……. n as usual it was quite insightful……… (not that I already didn’t know about it)…….

Just when I was about to give up the hope of doing anything festive on this festival day I received a message from Amey inviting me for Kite-Flying at his place (actually, on his terrace)………. It said “You are invited for Kite-Flying at my place at 2pm today”……..well, that’s some notice period (notice period: more about it later)…n 2pm!!...dear friend, am at work!!....I wrote back my apologies for not being able to make it……… did I mention that Amey’s place is in Andheri n that my office is in Worli?........

As I was leaving office at quarter past five…gave a casual call to Amey to find out if the others had come n how boring was it going without my revered presence…….he said “come”, I said “man! it ll take me an hr!”, he said “come”, I said “ I m coming”……….n off I went

Mercifully the traffic wasn’t bad….(except at the airport junction)…. The moment I touched the Western Express Highway I was glad I had agreed to go…. The bike, the road, the weather….sinful package…. n I found myself wishing Amey lived farther away….

I was on the Santacruz flyover when I felt as if a dozen score birds are hovering above me……I wondered why…. I looked up…..n there….!! Kites!!..... in a beautiful jumble of colors……presenting me with rainbows….rainbows made of paper,……..rainbows, for once, touchable…….. it felt like tiny embroideries on a blue blanket..… then I looked in the direction of the choreographers of this ballet of colors……every single soul from the basti seemed be on the slanting thatched roof (not terrace) of their huts…the older ones with string in their hands, the younger ones hovering around them with the string roll but no less excited….it was delightful watching the funfair……. n I thanked God for denying me the wisdom to not go….. This was already worth the ride…..could have just stopped there and watched it for hours, but the traffic behind me wasn’t helping my cause….

Reached Amey’s place in flat 40 minutes….Had a good time flying and cutting kites…. Had been ages since the last time I flew a kite…but discovered I haven’t lost touch…………..cut two kites in the first 5 minutes (first five minutes after the half an hour that took to air borne the kite :) )…and a third one just before it got too dark…..three of us hung out at Amey’s place for some time before heading back home around 9pm…. am tempted to dwell over the ride back…but will spare the details…

As usual, after dinner picked up “Long walk to Freedom”…this time with the determination to finish it….this book, though enjoyable, has been haunting me for over a month now……..just haven’t been able to finish it…….. Got a call from a friend just as I was dozing off…….turned out to be a real long conversation……..conversation that according to the person on the other side was “deep”……… I was ready to settle for “sensible”..…:)……. Picture this….. two people,………. one already hopelessly in love with this city,……. the other, who has decided to drop all guards n is looking forward to be swept (read flooded) away by the magical life this city is capable of offering………talking about the city, its people, its life………..(sigh!)….. The conversation: insanely quixotic….. the city: Intimidating yet welcomingly seducing, and us: feebly yet willingly surrendering…….

Forgive me for the melodrama………but its next to impossible to talk about this city with even the ‘faintest sense of detachment’..........

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The jinx is broken!

Thanks to a too-caught-up-in-work-to-go friend of mine I was fortunate to get my hands on the tickets for the final one dayer between India and Australia. Thanks Nrupal.

My friends and colleagues were not too happy about it. Well, they had their reasons for it. The reason being my honest admission that up until then I had never witnessed a match which was won by the team I supported. Be it the Ranji Trophy match between Haryana and Karnataka ( I was supporting Haryana; reason: Jadeja) or the ICC championship final between Australia and New Zealand ( No prizes for guessing which team I supported) or the test match between India and England ( India lost in three days. I went on day 3). The official conclusion: I am jinxed.

Well, I am a little superstitious when it comes to cricket. But, jinxed? I certainly was not. For two days prior to the match this became the lunch-time hot topic: colleagues threatening me with dire consequences if I were to go and direr if India was to lose. And I took up the challenge. “The jinx shall be broken” became my slogan. I don’t remember the number of times I had to use it. I was just short of printing it on my shirt….or forehead.

D-day.

I was trying to come up with excuses to leave early from work. But I couldn’t do better than a headache and a stomachache. These would never have worked. My excitement was far too obvious to hide behind such outdated excuses. But there was god news in store. My boss had a client-side meeting in the afternoon. Small mercies!! All I had to do was inform his secretary that I was leaving.

There were many tiny little incidents before, during and after the match that deserve a mention. I will save them for a later post. I will concentrate on the match now.

Australia won the toss and decided to bat first. Thanks to our late-bloomer Murali Karthik (he took 6), Australia was restricted to a not-so-challenging score of 193. Just when I thought we were having a good start Sachin got out. I will not dwell on it. You know the feeling (At least, he treated me with a Straight Drive before leaving). Roughly 5% of the crowd left. We started loosing wickets at regular intervals. After every wicket a portion of the crowd left. I have never understood how one can do that. I and a friend, who joined me for the second innings, simply sat there and numbly stared down the pitch. Leaving was not even an option. We are too romanticized with cricket to leave, to lose faith. But, the inevitable was staring right at our face. We wanted to enjoy it as long as it lasted. For almost half an hour we went through motions: clapping for singles and screaming till our throats ached for those rare boundaries.

The required runs kept decreasing from 80 to 70 to 60. Once it crossed 50 we started hoping again. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, to hope. I was getting comfortable in the no-pressure expectation of a loss, and suddenly these two guys in blue (Zaheer and Karthik) were teasing me with an agonizing ray of hope. Lord! I can’t go through this again! Well, I did hold on to that ray of hope and started my silent mantra which goes something like “comm’on, comm’on,……”. It’s amazing how lonely one can feel looking down at that pitch, praying for an Indian win, even though the twenty thousand people around you are cheering for exactly the same thing. It comes down to you and the guys on the field…..and of course, the scoreboard.

50…40….30….20…10….1…..We Won!!!! Clap! Clap!...Sweaty hand clapping. The jinx is broken……

And for those who left mid-way: Faith, my friends, Faith.

When is the next match in Bombay? ;)

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Pundits from Pakistan

Author: Rahul Bhattacharya

Publisher: Replika Press

Number of pages: 344

Suggested by: Nrupal

Where did I find it: Borrowed from Nrupal

Read when: September ‘07

The book:

This is a must read for all cricket fans and a definite read for non-cricket fans to realize what they are missing. It’s all about cricket. It’s not only about cricket. The book is an account of the 03-04 India tour of Pakistan.

The book starts with a debate that has been going on since the Romans! “Why do people like sports?” I found myself thinking ‘What have I gotten into?!” But the author, thankfully, doesn’t stretch it beyond tolerance and quickly gets in to the matter on hand: India and Pakistan.

He sketches an appreciable background, needless to say, involving politics, religion, The Bus and The War. A perfect platform for what was to come. And as he progresses, his narrative of the Pakistani cities, their history, the people and their hospitality is indeed fascinating.

And then begins the enthralling match by match, innings by innings, session by session web of runs, wickets, centuries and controversies. It’s a superbly compiled account of the one dayers, the test matches, and the rest days. Its unbelievable how unbiased he remains throughout the book. You know what? I can go on and on about how well its written and how engrossing it is. But I am gonna stop it now and just ask you to READ IT!!..

The most captivating thing about the book is the language. The author has an amazing way with the queen’s language. It’s not about the big obscure words; it’s about the way simple words are used to create a fantastic narration. Its music when he is describing a player and its melody when he is describing a city. There were many instances when I read and re-read a sentence or a paragraph because it was just so gorgeously written.

Recommendation: The book is refreshing for two reasons. One, as I already mentioned, it’s a rare unbiased account of an India-Pakistan series. Two, seldom do you find a sports (especially cricket) journalist who reports so matter of factually without forcing through a piece of his own mind. As I said before READ IT!!

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Into Thin Air

Author: Jon Krakauer

Publisher: Anchor Books

Number of pages: 333

Suggested by: Mrs. Amanullah (Rahmat’s mom)

Where did I find it: Placed an order with Crossword

Read when: September-October ‘07

The book:

It’s a breathtaking narrative of the ill-fated 1996 guided expedition to The Everest. It’s a survivor’s account of what really happened at the top of the world on that fateful summer day. It’s a story of bad luck, worse judgment and heartbreaking heroism.

He sets the tone by introducing the ‘industry’ of guided expeditions (that many believe is profane to the extent of threatening the sanctity of the world’s highest peak), the lives and achievements of renowned alpinists (some of few were there with him that summer), the competition between them, the beliefs, rituals and superstitions of the Sherpas, the roles and responsibilities of everyone on the team, and not to forget……The Mountain.

He follows this with life at the lower altitude (comparatively speaking) of base camp, the long and tedious process of preparing and planning for life at higher altitude. What ever the altitude, one thing remains constant – cold. He has done a fantastic job of bringing it down from the summit and pushing it through the reader’s veins.

As he moves higher (literally speaking) he digs deeper into serious controversies of the modern day guided expeditions. This means politics, fame, money, the written laws and the unwritten rules, and not to forget the very wisdom of challenging the mountain. At the end of it one is led to accept, the adrenaline at higher altitude notwithstanding, that sea-level is the best place to be…. Or is it?

And then comes the fateful day. May 10th 1996, the day of the summit push. The author achingly describes everything that went wrong that day- the plan, the weather, the inhuman conditions. It’s an epic of human strength, his will, his madness in the face of disaster. As a reader you question the actions and judgments, or the lack of both, of everyone on the mountain that day- the leaders, the guides, the sherpas, the clients and……and God.

It is true that the line between what is right and what is wrong is all but completely erased at such altitudes. It’s erased not because these climbers become so fanatic in their quest to reach the summit, but because at such altitudes given the conditions, the human mind and soul is rendered so numb that there is no realization of self. There is only the realization that there can be circumstances that are so beyond human control that its futile under those circumstances to search for definitions of wisdom, judgment, morality………of humanity.

Controversies erupted after this book got published. There were articles and even books written solely with the purpose of challenging the accuracy of the incident as accounted in the book. The one worth mentioning is “The Climb”, co authored by Anatoli Bourkreev,one of the guides on that expedition, and an American writer named G. Weston DeWalt. The fight flared up to such a degree that the Jon was forced to include a 30 page postscript to later editions of his book defending himself.

A plethora of questions raise from the book, but for his part, the author has done commendable research before writing it. Even though he was in the middle of the disaster, he has done well to gather as much information from as many people possible. The result – heart-wrenching stories of quest, of hope, of despair, of guilt, of undoubted heroism, of questionable judgment, of constrained selfishness, of unbelievable selflessness………..of miracles.

Recommendation: Read it. Period.

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