The Bridge Over Untroubled Waters?
"To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower:
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
- William Blake
The bridge was his favourite “my place” in the town. He loved to go and stand by its iron railings, whatever the weather. The warmth from pristine sun rays created a shade of chocolate to his black hair. However rare an occurrence, it was a memory he came to associate with warmth ever since. There was water, a vast expanse of it as far as one could see, and then there were trees, with
leaves of all colours and some without any – fall had set in. And every time he used his camera to take pictures of the place, he went back home to discover something new. Something that the unassuming gaze of his eyes had missed but the detail hungry viewfinder of his camera probably hadn’t. This time was no different. Browsing through his pictures for the day, he saw one, of
chains, locked in place, to the railing.
Andrew loved memories. Memories preserved in the chronological order of their occurrence. They grew vague with time, he tended to forget a few of them and added a few imaginary ones, and ended up with a rather interesting story of his own, but he loved them, nonetheless – memories. And that probably was the reason for his love for photography. The pictures were the method to his madness and helped him keep the “my stories” in order. Well, just about.
He was still staring at this particular photograph on his iPad when he saw the time. He had to call up his family back home. It was their weekly tradition ever since he had moved away. They waited for his call at this hour each Sunday evening; so that they could hear from him and ensure that he
was well. The chains reminded him of the family. They never wanted to let him go.
“There’s a lot of things you can photograph here.” They'd exclaim. “Nobody is ever going to stop you. And you can learn all you want over the internet. Why do you need to go to a foreign land to be a photographer, of all the things in the world!?”
But he was a free spirit, Andrew. In his mind, he had charted his path, the trajectory, the course, all the mathematics that a migratory bird figures out in its brain before it sets out for warmer
climates.
He called them up, exchanged pleasantries as usual and then let them know he was fine. His mother asked him if he was eating well, if he had made any new friends and if he was avoiding bad company. These were routine questions with routine replies that he had on the tips of his finger, like
the mud sticking out of his unkempt nails. They had been talking about ten minutes and at the back of his mind, he knew he'd be done with the ordeal soon, to go back to his pictures and the chains. Just when he decided to say goodbye and hang up, his father asked about his work. That wasn't a
part of the script! They hated his work for all that he did. It was the very reason for this call, which would not have happened otherwise.
“I’m doing well, Dad.” Said Andrew, in an exaggerated tone. “You need to be really creative with this stuff, think different, and give routine happenings a completely different perspective, but I'm trying my best.”
It was probably the first time he had talked to his father about work. His kind of work.
“I’m sure you are. You don’t give up easily, do you? I got a Facebook account now. Show me those pictures when you have the time.”
His father had never been that interested in pictures. His pictures. Andrew was about to say that he was a professional photographer and didn’t deem it right to share them over Facebook, but he was too overwhelmed to say anything.
“Sure thing, Dad. I'll share them all! Take care.”
As he disconnected the call and looked at the roof to soak in all that had happened, he looked back at his iPad. The chains. There were so many of them, and they all had different locks.
“Maybe it’s a cycle stand for the enthusiasts?”
But he had never seen a bicycle parked around that place.
“I should go back to see what it is!” Andrew thought to himself.
It was cold and dark outside. He stole a glance at the thermometer mounted outside his window.
“Four degrees below zero? Makes it all the more interesting.”
He wore that wry smile that had been missing for a while now; fastened his coat, picked up his camera, and closed his apartment door behind him as he left.
A closer look at the spot helped. But so did a different perspective. It was the lover’s point. How had he missed it of all the things in the world! The hopelessly-in-love had wished for their love to be locked up securely, away from all the troubles of the world. She ought to be here as well. With him. Ruby would love it. To be here; locking away their love for each other in a secure, safe, warm place.
Ten years down the line...
“So, can I take the blindfold off me now?” Ruby asked Andrew, as he finally made her stop and turn a little to her left.
She had been made to walk, blindfolded, for what seemed to her like an eternity. But it seemed like they were where he wanted her to be. Having waited for a reply to her question, she couldn’t be the patient one anymore, and pulled the scarf off her eyes.
“Wow! This is beautiful.” She gushed, as she saw the rusted chains and the locks tying them in place.
“Why didn't I ever see a picture of this?”
“This is where I realised how looking at things differently helps. And I wanted you to see it for real!”
“You could have at least told me about it. I don't have anything to tie here.” She didn’t seem to like the fact that seeing is all that she was going to be doing.
“But, I have this.”
He held a key in front of her puzzled face. Her hand mechanically opened as he placed it in the centre of her palm.
“Now all you need to do is look for a lock with your name on it.”
“You've already tied one on the bridge?”
“Yes.”
“What! Where? What colour is it then?” “I don't really remember the colour."
“Oh, gosh. Some love that is.”
“There were a lot less of these when I was here last time!”
“Sometimes, you're stupid.”
“I know. Now, make a wish and throw the key in the water.”
“But I want to see our padlock first.”
“I have another padlock.”
“Where?”
“In my bag.”
“Since when?”
“Since you called me stupid. Come on.” “What? Where are we going?”
“Start a love-lock bridge elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“You can choose. Well, from a few options that I have in my mind.”
“Crafty. But, why does your camera always have to come along with us, too.”
Listening to: Bridge over Troubled Water
Dedicated to: Simon and Garfunkel
Images Courtesy: asdClicks - that's what I plan to call my soon to be launched photo blog.
PS: The story helped me score a cent percent score in my creative writing course at JYU. Close to my heart? Hell yeah!
And a heaven in a wild flower:
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
- William Blake
Ten years down the line...
Images Courtesy: asdClicks - that's what I plan to call my soon to be launched photo blog.
PS: The story helped me score a cent percent score in my creative writing course at JYU. Close to my heart? Hell yeah!
The Patient Doctor
"There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar."
- Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
- Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
I was standing at the bus stop when I saw her approach from the far end. Her face was red with cold and the brown eyes looked like a lake about to freeze. She was sneezing every now and then. Poor little thing. She opened her bag to pull out a strip of tablets from her rather huge bag. Looked like paracetamol. And then a bottle of water. But then she threw it away in a fit of rage. Yeah, they deliver bad luck in dollops these days, gift wrapped and all.
Just as she moved around to zip the bag up, this Greek warrior's helmet tumbled out of it and fell to the ground. Not an authentic metal piece really. But that wasn't the case with the mortar and pestle set that came out next. It looked like the one from my grand mother's kitchen. Maybe I could tell her a trick or two with the natural herbs to get rid of the cold?
As the bus arrived, and people began boarding, I began thinking of all the natural cures I knew that could be of any help to her. She boarded the bus and sat next to me. Destiny? No! Get on with the job doctor.
The bus came to a halt with a jerk bringing me back from my reverie. The seat next to me was empty. So was the whole bus. But there it was, right next to me, the big black bag.
Just as she moved around to zip the bag up, this Greek warrior's helmet tumbled out of it and fell to the ground. Not an authentic metal piece really. But that wasn't the case with the mortar and pestle set that came out next. It looked like the one from my grand mother's kitchen. Maybe I could tell her a trick or two with the natural herbs to get rid of the cold?
As the bus arrived, and people began boarding, I began thinking of all the natural cures I knew that could be of any help to her. She boarded the bus and sat next to me. Destiny? No! Get on with the job doctor.
The bus came to a halt with a jerk bringing me back from my reverie. The seat next to me was empty. So was the whole bus. But there it was, right next to me, the big black bag.
Listening to: Waterloo Sunset, The Kinks
Dedicated to: My classmates at XENX041 - Creative Writing in English.
Images Courtesy: Google Image Search
PS: This is my first class assignment for the afore mentioned course. And the writing prompt was - Reconstruct the owner of this bag (and possibly their day leading up to this event). Also, how did the bag end up here in the classroom and where is the owner?
Back to Bedlam
To think the world therefore a general Bedlam, or place of madmen, and oneself a physician, is the most necessary point of present wisdom: an important imagination, and the way to happiness.
- Thomas Traherne
That, sums it up, I believe. I have lost count of the number of things / people / processes / results I have tried being during the time I have been away from writing in here.
There are those you believe genuinely care for you, of course there's no way of knowing unless you are good at looking trough the soul. So you either believe, or you don't. Then there are those who want to know, know it all. Like well informed citizens of the republic, just that you happen to be the subject of their concern, awkwardly, almost day in and day out. And then there are the paparazzi sans cool imaging devices, working for fancy little tabloids of their own mind. To their credit, they work hard, have a huge majority and coordinate and cooperate well for their numbers, and yes, they get you - all the time.
I fell prey too. To some of the above or now when I look at it, all of the above kind of people. Tried doing things. Nay, tried making them happen ahead of time, out of nowhere maybe. Of course the world goes by what it sees, and that notion gets to you every now and then. It did get to me. It might get to me again.
For now though, I'm back to bedlam. So come on over all you foolish people. Those who need the therapy and those who don't. Because I, for one, am the master of me again, and for now, I'm doing things - my way.
Of course life is bizarre, the more bizarre it gets, the more interesting it is. The only way to approach it is to make yourself some popcorn and enjoy the show.
Listening to: Anyone Else But You, Juno OST
P. S. No dedications for now but a small thank you to James Blunt. Yup, that blog post title is stolen :)
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A momentary lapse INTO reason
All our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.
- Blaise Pascal
As it slides across the frame each morning,
While I am still asleep, snoaring
It sure does get my thoughts bowling,
as I toss around in the bed moaning,
swearing at, what, of late, has become,
My window to the world.
Fowls have got food to gather
Yet another day for mutts to fight the weather
cabbies readying to tain their patrons
The teacher readying to play the matron
The milkman, the guard, even the garbage guy
are kings when balancing the lemon on their spoon.
Why me, just me, did you single out O stupid fireball,
to burn through on thy wheel of fortune?
Ain't there a code of misconduct you ought to say?
Ain't there a game to play afore your prey?
Is that how plain you get to decide my destiny?
Shouldn't your ways be the cause for my mutiny?
Questions fly around in disarray - questions absurd,
as I finaly sit up and look out to the horizon,
far and out, through my, window to the world...
Listening to: Let's Make a Night, Bryan Adams, The Best Of Me
Dedicated to: Sitting in my room today, I just realised this huge sliding french window is something I have never really noticed, although I've been rotting in here for like five months now. The post by the way, is dedicated to Jaadoo, someone who loved sliding windows... :P
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My DD moment
The radio jockey was going all praise over DD turning 50 and asking listeners to phone in and tell everyone about their favourite DD moment. The faint first memories that I have of myself watching DD are glimpses from the everybody at home assembling in front of the TV for watching there favourite Buniyaad go a step farther. [Yes, Ekta Kapoor neither invented nor discovered family dramas.] Of course I remember Shanti too, Mandira Bedi never got tired of coming back on to the screen every afternoon, day after day after day. [UTV again beat Ekta Kapoor to daily soaps] And then there was Sports Broadcasts, whether it was the Hero Cup, The 1996 Wills World Cup, Leander Paes's bronze at Atlanta Olymics of '96 or Zidane's moment of glory at Fifa '08. DD was here there and everywhere, juggling time and resources pretty efficiently I'd say.
Having a 'Cable Connection' was considered something elite and taboo at the same time at the lunch break conversations of us 7th graders.
And then things began to change. Cable TV became as much about Discovery, BBC and National Geographic as it was about Star World and AXN. You just had to have it to have a taste of 'The World'. WWF(E) was never a DD trademark and so wasn't Prannoy Roy's NDTV. And the good old terrestial antenna caught in the web of cable signals carrying coaxial wires, slowly lost it's esteemed place atop the rooftops. You had to have 5 different Sports, News, Family Entertainment, Movie and Foreign channels to complete a TV viewing experience. [I do love cable TV for ESPN, HBO and WB though.]
And slowly, DD was left to be that official broadcaster of the nation that nobody had the time to see.Of course it isn't anywhere near with regards to quality of the content or presentation that we have on the Satellite channels. And who needs to be blamed for that, is anybody's guess..
So what's my favourite DD moment? Quite a few come to mind when I think of that...
- One fine afternoon, you could only see the pictures and not hear anything. I later got to know that Rajiv Gandhi had been assassinated. Don't know how, but I happen to remember that.
- Of course being home on Sunday mornings to watch Jungle Book, Duck Tales and Tales Pin is something I can't forget. I still cant find a Cartoon channls that airs those shows.
- Some of the really well presented social service messages that were aired after every hour or so. Remember "एक चिडिया - अनेक चिडिया" and "मिले सुर मेरा तुम्हारा" ?
- Watching the friday night movies that went on for about 5 hours thanks to the plethora of advertisements that DD used to get back then.
- Buying a Radio that broadcast DD so that I didn't miss '99 WC during my summer sojourn at Palampur, where we didn't have a TV.
- Remember the "Sorry for Interruption - रुकावट के किये खेद है" screen that used to pop up so often? It became a part of the Indian legend and folklore for ever. Modern day satellite channels hang up too, it's just that they aren't courteous enough!
Well none of these happen to be the actual DD moment for me. It's way too recent, when I lamented India's early exit at ICC WC '07 and decided to do something about it. So I got a TV Tuner card from my uncle's and we built a special set top dipole antenna, that could easily catch the free-to-air DD terrestial signals. And sure enough, I witnessed India's triumph at the ICC World T20 right there in my room, without a cable wire. And to this day, I haven't been able to decide what satisfied me more...
So what's you DD moment? Come on, say!
Listening to: Feelin' Way Too Damn Good, Nickelback, The Long Road
Dedicated to: That big terrestrial antenna that once brought home Doordarshan. Gosh I miss you :P
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Heartbreak at it's very best.
When I'd planned on a comeback posting schedule with my previous post, this was not where I'd decided to start. But some things are best done unplanned, and this seemed one of them. [Don't ask me about the others ;)]
It all started a day before, I guess, when I read an article on the Bomaby Times front page, by, errrr... Saif Ali Khan. It was about a childhood friend, who happened to be a cute girl. The kids never saw each other because Saif's parents shifted base and the poor boy had just a photograph of his friend as a memory...
Brought back memories of my childhood. Lotsa friends in the town that I was born and the next one, where I grew up, whose names I don't really remember and faces i faintly do. But I'd surely love to give it a try to go see them after like, 20 odd years...
Anyways, back to today, when I was watching Neil Patrick Harris, the How I Met Your Mother star [well for me he's a real life guru, that all senti guys should have] , on Star World, when this advertisement for Airtel Digital TV went on air.
Hmmm... Saif Ali Khan's article, it turned out was a gimmick (which I had kinda guessed) for this very add. But that's where it becomes rather touchy. He somehow finds the girl thanks to the photograph, a locket, and Airtel Digital TV and serendipity of course. But, just when he's about to rush to the girl (who apparently anticipates something exciting too, given the look on Saif's face), Kareena Kapoor enters the frame. (yes, from nowhere!) Poor loyal [?] lover boy Saif quietly slips the photograph of his childhood sweetheart into his back pocket and moves towards Kareena... while the girl he had been searching for so long, too curbs her excitement and moves away... the whole scene ends with the background jingle... Dil Titli... Dil Titli Sa. (The heart's a butterfly) [the translation because I believe my blog does have some readership abroad! lol]
I don't really want to comment more on the advertisement. How I felt about it? Well, I haven't really written about an advertisement here on THE iNFINITY, so you can probably guess. Watching it I felt that I won't like to go through it all ever, although deep inside I know I make similar choices everyday, thanks to my heart that flutters like a butterfly, all the time.
Though there's one thing about he advertisement I can't stop myself from saying. Kareena Kapoor in the role of her life, as the evil vamp! She should do more such roles... looks good in those. [She still remains one my favourite on screen actresses for her role in Jab We Met.]
This post was never meant to be and I still end up writing a truly boring autopsy for an advertisement... hmmm. Dil Titli... Dil Titli Sa.
Listening to: The title track from Dil Bole Hadippa. How does Titli Bole Hadipa sound like?
Dedicated to: The Titli that our hearts are.
P.S. The blog entry is in no way an endorsement of Airtel Digital TV. I could have used a generic name, but that would have spoilt the fun. I still watch TV through my good old cablewallah by the way...
Images Courtesy: Google and deviantART
Update: My post was quicker than even youtube. Anyways, found the video for this advert on youtube just now... check it out if you didn't already see on TV.
I guess I'm not done... just yet.
Why I've not been posting anything on THE iNFINIY all this time? Well, a combination of lame and not so lame excuses - have been lazy, haven't been well, had to undergo a nightmare (they call it surgery in medical terms), have been speculating a lot, haven't been thinking that much, have allowed my jobless tag get to me, have been listening to lots of people instead of just hearing them...
In a nutshell, I've been screwing and letting life screw me...
And then I remembered I certainly had things to do... probably a lot better than what I've been doing. This ain't really something worth reading... just a reminder to all my readers that I'm still here... and gonna be back writing soon... I do believe its better than most things I do.
Don't think there are many regular readers left on THE iNFINITY. But, asd's willing to do whatever it takes to get them back...
No bangs, but yes, I'm back! :D
[Silly punchline to end with, I know, but you know, I'm outta form]
And then I remembered I certainly had things to do... probably a lot better than what I've been doing. This ain't really something worth reading... just a reminder to all my readers that I'm still here... and gonna be back writing soon... I do believe its better than most things I do.
Don't think there are many regular readers left on THE iNFINITY. But, asd's willing to do whatever it takes to get them back...
No bangs, but yes, I'm back! :D
[Silly punchline to end with, I know, but you know, I'm outta form]
Listening to: Ye Dooriyan, Kaminey. Courtesy: Radio Mirchi
Dedicated to: The hapless radio jockey on the same station. Man! I'm a fan of their stamina and shameless stupidity.
P.S. The preview pic that I put up was t attract more readers... nothing to do with a movie review as you must have realised by now. Ya kamina... dazz me!
Gone, are my whiskers :(
A man without a moustache is like a cup of tea without sugar.
- Read in an old Reader's Digest a few days back. Can't recall the personality they attributed it to. So for now, attributed to Anonymous.
So out of the blues one day,just like that, I decided that I'll heed my doctor's advice and won't shave for good. He had been telling me to avoid it until I got rid of my summer supply of pimples, but being presentable in college constitutes a huge chunk of any dude's check list. And so I'd been shaving each alternate day to keep looking like the gentleman that I am.
And then the stubble, which slowly grew into a much heralded beard. "Impressive growth rate", I complimented myself.
Then one fine day, they told us it was time to bid farewell to the college, with of course an official farewell from the college, that sadly had, an official dress code. Yup! I had to shave.
Going through the routine, a shimmering Gilette Mach3 in hand, I checked out my face with a moustache. Just a moustache. The shaving cream smeared on the rest of the face. It looked... errr.. impressive to say the least. "Does a moustache violate the term clean shaven? " I asked myself. "Probably it does. Probably it doesn't. But well worth the risk all the same."
"Let's do it". I told myself.
So there I was at my official farewell party with a big black moustache. It did earn me a lot more photo opportunities than normal, apart from, of course, the glares and stares.
And to this day I'd been sporting the same bushy black moustache. Just that some (mis)happenings tell me it's the wrong era to be going around showing it off...
Friends were generous in showering accolades. How much they ridiculed my latest 'experiment with my looks' is something I'll never really get a masure of. Kids tried calling me uncle. Girls came forth with their particularly unappealing smiles. And some were blunt enough to do away with the smiles, altogether. And to top it all, my own mother seemed perturbed with me, the moment I set foot, in my new home.
So, with a heavy heart and even heavier hands, that seemed more like the butcher's hands, making the lamb say it's final prayers a million times, before they actually do it in, I chopped off my prized possession of the past few months.
"The Mumbai clime made it impossible to maintaion one, and I wasn't one to trim them off", is what I tell people who ask me the whereabouts of my face's bookmark. For the record though, I had to do it out of compulsion. A compulsion called keeping your near ones happy - at whatever the cost!
They say a man without a moustache is like a cup of tea without sugar. But then, isn't that what the doctors prescribe us for a healthy life these days? Hmmm... consolation enough.
Listening to: Mean Mr. Moustache, The Beatles
Dedicated to: Nathulal. That legendary guy with whiskers to die for...
Dedicated to: Nathulal. That legendary guy with whiskers to die for...
P.S. I happen to be too modest a guy to post my own picture sporting the moustache on my own blog. :P Check out my Facebook badge down below to get a first hand view of the look.
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The Moving Chronicles - Final Farewell...
For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
-Bible (Old Testament)
Part IV
continued from Part III
It was about the same time four years back that I receieved my rank sheet for the JUIT entrance test. It said I was eligible for counselling and had to be present in flesh and blood (the pun is intended, indeed.) on the given date. That started a heated round of arguments at home.
Having spent about four years at Shimla prior to this, I obviously didn't want to go back to a place I thought I had left for good. But then, I hadn't done too well in any of my other competitive exams and I still wanted to be an engineer. And as Papa put it, "Beggars can't afford to be choosers".
In about a month, I was trying to make myself feel at home at JUIT, Waknaghat. [yeah queerly named location for a college you'd say, and I agree...]
More or less, the four years passed about in a jify. And for all their memorable moments, I'd probably like to forget the four years as fast as I lived them. Living in the moment was one of the better lessons that college probably taught me.
I passed out of JUIT a week ago. (yeah! I'm an engineer finally, and the grades weren't all that bad :P) Tomorrow I leave Shimla, JUIT, the hills and all the memories far behind as I move to, what I'd like to believe are, greener pastures. And though I've never quite liked the hills as a place to live - you need to walk a lot (and yet you don't sweat!), the weather changes like girls's prefernces, life's slow, a bit too slow for my liking, and to admit it, I find driving here hell lotta difficult, there's just a bit of nostalgia that I can already feel.
But, for all my reasons for being disenchanted with the hills, living here during the past eight years made me realise something really important... - if there's somewhere that I belong, it's here.
And as Ruskin Bond put it in one of his stories that I read in one of my C.B.S.E. books - "Once you've lived in the hills at some point in your life, you come to belong to them, and wherever you go, your heart keeps tellling you to go back to them."
Until the hill dweller or Pahadiya in me makes me come back one day... it's a sweet bye bye to the Hills.
For now, it's Destination Mumbai!
Concluded.
Listening to: Here Without You, 3 Doors Down
Dedicated to: Shimla. They call it The Queen of Hills...
Dedicated to: Shimla. They call it The Queen of Hills...
P.S. This happens to be my One Hundredth Post. Something I had in mind when I began with THE iNFINITY a year back. Bit busy packing right now, so celebrations later... cyao.
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