Thrills for free

Sunday evening and there's a buzz of energy all around. The families washing and drying their clothes, bathing their children at the tiny pockets of water between the rocks. The couples that have claimed their space for romance. The foreign tourist who is venturing out with her DSLR towards the waves. All others who choose the comfort of the promenade over the unevenness of the rocks. Clicking fake pictures with their IPads, digital cameras, DSLRs and mobile phones. An elderly man tries to capture his wife through his iPad and is driving her all over the place for a perfect shot. There is litter around and we have left it there, we're comfortable with it and it is part of our scene. All of this is me.

Picture Perfect Pawana

Photo Courtesy: Vasant Salian

She makes it seem as easy as breathing. Fearless and fourteen she wades off without a sound, except for that of our egos shattering with shame. Each one secretly knows the apprehensions they hold inside.

Snapping from this humbling realisation we swiftly hop into the kayaks. Straight out of a movie, except its real. Reflection of the setting sun, silhouette of blue mountains, storks flying...an experience so serene that we'd rather tire rowing than turn back.

'Right is left and left is right' were the instructions to row. And we quickly figured it out just to experience the awesomeness of lake Pawana.

Magic

Silenced by the rhythmic drops hitting the water, we watch the diamonds fall all around us. Is this what abundance feels like; a sense of fulfillment without owning?

We float amidst our plunder. Light showers caress our face. Though they vanish quickly, the magic of the moment remains.

Can do Kundalika

I'm looking at the water not knowing what to make of it.
'Kuudh,' urges one of the spectators.
One look away from the water and doubt sets in.
'Nahi nahi,' I back off into the raft.
'Chal chal,' a hand pulls me back into the stoplight position.
'Saath kudtey hai,' I say relieving the pressure to do it myself.
'Saath kudtey hai,' is the fake reassuring response.
'Dhakka de,' shouts a pushy soul.
'No dhakka,' Gopal watches on.
'Khudh kudengi.'
The water is nearing in slow motion.
It shoots though my nose at jet speed.
My eyes stay shut from the intensity of the embrace.
Welcome home after 10 long years.

A day with young talent

These young adults have etched themselves in the mind and soul of their audience.

They put themselves out there with fierce determination. Their passion was well recognized by the celebrity judges; Genelia D'souza and Prahlad Kakkar. Also, well rewarded by event partners like Whistling Woods and AOL Cool Age.

Navaneeth Venkateswar who asked the audience to shut up during his performance was awarded the Best Actor, Director and Winning Play. The play used techniques that attempted to erase stage boundaries and interact with the audience. 

Anoud who acted as Mesopheles, Cleopatra's pet cat and narrator also won Best Actress. A brilliant job at impersonating an animal through pure acting.

The third noteworthy perforrnace was David Lobo as King Victor who was true to his character and the 'darkness of it's soul.'

What was supposed to be an intercollegiate drama competition turned out to be way more than what I expected with hilarious fillers by Franklin and Akash Raj as well as commendable dance routines. Kudos to St. Andrew's for it's 13th edition of Olio!

Heart of Green

After months, I visited this heart of green that’s two minutes from where I live. The rain has embraced the soil and paver blocks not differentiating one from the other. The earth oozes, nourishing this wild beauty. Everything green has transformed itself into multitudes. The natural acquisition has been too fast and wide-spread for humans to supervise leaving them no choice but to wait till the falling grace ceases.

My sniffers are scanning the air for a known fragrance which if found will bring back pleasant memories, like old friends do. Dismayed, I find none.

Tiny leaves of yellow suddenly swirl welcoming me to a celebration that does not mandate the presence of another. ‘You’re enough.’

Rich growth has enthralled this place. It would be unforgiving to call it a park. Would they have such dense vegetation in Africa?

The thought evaporates as my sniffers inform other senses of its successful find. Here it is! The fragrance of eucalyptus that brings life alive! The cleansing of a soul before it’s born again, one whose existence I was oblivious to until this moment.

The family of hugging bamboos is not quizzed by other tress about their appearance or why they rise and droop.

The bridge of wood planks is no longer cute. I’m constricted from investigating by two barks forming an ‘ex’ warning the adventure-seeking feline breed. How long has it been since I've seen a three dimensional ‘ex’? The serious barks know their job. They frown with disagreement. My thirst for adventure, despite Bryan Adams, long died at 18.

Head towards the temple-like secluded steps and my yellow conscience asks, ‘Is it wise to risk it?’ I walk on. The lone fluttering of a florescent butterfly reminds me how easily crush-able my life and happiness are. I’m no tougher than a bug here, yet just as fearless and mindless.

The frolic laughter of men amplify my hesitation like in a horror movie the background sound gives away the imminent carnage yet ironically fabricates the ultimate fear through anticipation. And we wonder why warning signs don’t work. Like a moth to a flame.

While they practice a fun sport, all I see is potential danger. Foolish pride urges me on.

The paver blocks bucket water. It’s all mossy here and darker green. Like a tan on a wrist line, I follow the clear meandering path that’s the handiwork of all the feet that kept going. I follow their invisible footprints arriving at the amphitheater where I bask in the now warm sun putting pen to paper as tiny coolers arrive at the pores.

Every morning I walk in the direction that provides a place in the world. Walking in the direction of my green heart finds me a place in the Universe.

Echoes tarnish the heavens with religious or political broadcasts. The bogus voice brings to mind worldly chains. It’s time to leave with a desire to return.

I see one more herd of frolic men now. The blue of their shirts erase my anxiety. Colors, clothing and symbols speak of what we do, who we are and how much we earn. Seeing these, we blindly trust in our assumptions eliminating the necessity to validate.

Instead of seeing myself as outnumbered, I assume the unknown security men to be my safe keepers and feel naively protected.

As I climb down the antenna goes up again. The senses alert of soft footsteps behind. Even though not intimidated I am keenly aware of a presence. While I choose the paver blocks, the footsteps take the rocky mud track. As they draw near, I see dusky feet in slippers, colorful mismatched and over-sized clothes, hair tied up in a bun with a gaudy flower to doll up an otherwise plain face. Ahead, a small group of boys climb down a slender track of stairs. Are these two connected? What sort of business could go on in a lush green remote corner?

The gate drapes a banner of a combat fitness company blocking out all view of the green heart to the swarming slum dwellers waiting to alight the numbered bulldozers, otherwise known as BEST buses. 

Would a self-defense class compensate for the faith that’s lost in the world of people?

Who is to blame?

The music takes me back to days of pride. We fell into well defined lines; an army of blue and white chin up, eyes forward, saluting the tricolor each day. 

From shoulders broadened with pride to a helpless corpse diminished with shame. Who is to blame?

The brutal incident in the capital was forgotten in time. What was I not thinking? That things wouldn't fall in place by itself? 

Now it's another young life ruined in my city. Will it stop? Will the next victim be the savvy expat at the office, the household help whose husband is mostly knocked out drunk, someone I never knew existed in the neighborhood or me?

I would selfishly think 'I wish I had done something to stop this before it could happen to me.' Though I wouldn't think this until I fell victim to my own inaction.

Invitation

She teased and twisted and bent her knees,
Gave me a glance that said 'Come and get me please.'
She smiled and flirted and cringed her brow
Almost saying 'Don't waste time, hurry to me now.'
I tried to step back back but almost in vain
As her angelic curse lured me in, yet again.

Shadow

My shadow
Has some serious doubts
About whether
It’s worth coming everywhere about,
About whether
I’m good company,
About whether
Of me, she can be free.
She asked me twice,
Am I free to go?
I said do as you please,
I don’t know.
It sure as hell
Broke my heart
But what can I say
When we’re torn apart.
So I bid her farewell
Into a world of her own
Where there’s abundance
And her identity is born.

A zillion emails to run through

A million meetings to get through

A thousand deliverables to deliver

A hundred questions to uncover

 

Hitting me fast one by one

Jet speed thoughts can be no fun

Responsibilities on this tiny frame

A wild cat gone tame

 

Feel the burden over my shoulder

Life is filed away in a box folder

Yet the thought of you makes me smile at things

Feel uplifted like an angel with a new set of wings

 

If one were to look in the deep dark afar

They’d see nothingness

But I’d see you

My shinning lil star.

One too many ways to fall in love

 

Sitting by the shore

Playing with the sand

Watching the grains slip through your hand

Simple lessons in letting go

Plunging deep in what you do not know.

 

Watching the surfer

Rule the wave

Enjoying his glide

He's got much to rave.

 

As it gets windy

He comes crashing down

Like a de-robed king

No head, nor crown.

 

Fickle moments of joy

The pain that comes with falling

The raving surfer

Turns into a creature so appalling.

 

Tears say

He's in a lot of pain

Yet when asked the forbidden question

Says he would do it all over again.

Muse

Sleepless night, I lie awake
hop out of bed to come to you
to look at you once again and be sure
that I know myself and what I see.

 

 

Confidence well defined
you walk away tall in a herd
no shackles to tie you down
within ties you're free as a bird.

 

 

No garments to make you feel ashamed
No tresses nor mane
Wrapped in skin and all that holds you together
No burdens of even your creator.

 

 

Love your spark, love your shine
Love the energy that makes you mine
Even if for this one moment alone
I hold you in sight, in my mind I take you home.

For the love of life...

This is a special picture indeed! It brings to mind memories from the past three years rushing towards me like a fast freight train.

 

Two years as a digital library executive for the love of colorful food images like this one and the need for survival ofcourse. People who helped me find that job while we under-went a recession. People who put up with my frustration through the job-hunting days. People I projected my dis-satisfaction onto.

 

And then there's me ofcourse, picking myself up as they moved in and out, farther or closer. There's lot to value and learn from the experiences gone by. What I love about it all though is what you make of it and I maketh this shot! And there are those who make even this possible! Thank you!

Identity

Grey cells lead to, am I this or that, both or neither?

Lack of it, keep's it simple - I am!

And that's all there is to existence.

From just be yourself to just be!