The Idea-smithy

This was written a long time back. I’m recycling it since I don’t think any of the people who read my blog now knew me then. And because I like this piece.

29 October 2004

8 a.m. on a weekday morning. Mumbai’s crankiest best. Sweepers shuffling dust into the air with a vengeance, cars spelling out “Eat my dust” in their fumes, people shuffling to work. I stood at the bus-stop frowning into thin air, waiting for a bus that was always late on days of important appointments.

A little boy and his grandmother walked past me. The boy in a pair of faded trousers and shirt hanging out in a state of shabbiness only little boys can perfect. The grandmother was little, white-haired, bespectabled and slightly bent in that endearing ‘grandmommy’ way. Both were holding hands tightly. For a moment I wondered, who was escorting who?

(more…)

Being my own best friend is probably even more powerful than it sounds. I’ve been groping in the dark for faith, for reason, for light. And then, I find this, written three years ago, or slightly longer…by me. And to think I’ve been brooding over bad traffic, space constraints and petty mind games. When I wrote this, my maternal uncle was battling cancer and the family plunging deeper and deeper into the despair of watching a second loved one dying before their eyes, in the space of 4 years. And I was encountering the disillusionment and vileness of the working world for the first time. Surprisingly, I pulled through. When did I forget how to?

This morning I thought that real rejuvenation could only come from the company of the young, untainted by cynicism, unbroken by disappointment. But I guess real inspiration comes from those who have weathered it already. I stand in awe of both, youth and old age.

14 October 2004

Yesterday was voting day and I left home early so I could register my vote before going to work. I felt a little silly especially since all my friends who were working shrugged and begged off and the lucky ones with a holiday decided to ‘enjoy it and chill out’. As I walked into the schoolroom, deserted as it was at the early hour, I realised I must be the only voter there below 50….and one of the few below 60.

Today I drifted back home wondering whether I’d missed a cycle and somehow the nightmare world had got interchanged with reality…I seem to be going through 18 hours in a dazed state and 8 hours in complete comprehension…instead of the other way round. I walked down the road, my vision a blur as I kept dabbing at my eyes and finally I broke down. For the first time in months I cried….and cried…and cried.

A little old lady in snow-white hair and a sleeveless terrycot dress ambled up to me, patted my shoulder and said

Are you feeling alright dear? Is there a problem? Are you not well? You can talk to me.

I managed to shake my head and indicate the phone in my hand. After the call I went to say thank you to her for caring enough to ask…and I had to stop and talk..and listen to her story. So many little things she told me….that she was 80 and loved people and life, that she had lost her husband to cancer 10 years ago and what a wonderful, loving man he had been and how much he loved her…her eyes gleamed as she said,

Cancer is a very bad thing. He was 80 years old when he died. I am 80 now.

She told me how she loved coming out for walk and talking to nice people like me, how her neighbor had taken over her house and was trying to oust her, how she cooked for herself, cleaned her house and walked and talked and was never sick.

Life has come to me in huge, overpowering waves recently.
I am watching a loved one sink into an abyss where no one can pull him out.
I am holding together like a dam against the flood of the grief of the people around me.
I am fighting battles that everyone says are routine but rough nevertheless.

Yes, there is a lot of pain in this world
There is injustice and grief and jealousy and manipulation and cruelty and sadism and weakness and terror.
But there is also hope, blind optimism perhaps but hope nevertheless
…I have seen it in slightly breathless but determined faces of the senior citizens who believe that this country is theirs to respect and run.

There is courage and compassion and inspiration….in the eyes of an 80-year old widow who fights worse battles than mine and more bravely.

Yes, life has its miracles.

2 October 2004

Sometimes life comes at you
like a thousand asteroids rocketing through space
And hits you,
one at a time and then more and more and more

Till the reality sinks in
That there is no planet, no sun or galaxy

All there is, is the vast, still brooding space
That you are.

10 September 2004

When I was a child I’d stand at the window that the adults looked out of with so much ease. Sometimes an indulgent adult would pick me up to look out and then with an “ooof” put me back since I was ‘too old’ to be carried. Up on tiptoes, my chin would barely reach the window base and I’d wonder if I would ever be able to look out onto the world with ease and not even think about it.

At 14 my eyeline crossed the top of mom’s head, at 16 I could look into the eyes of every guy I knew and look down to most of them. I don’t look out of the window much anymore…there doesn’t seem to be anything worth looking at. Its like the world in a photo frame and that’s so…mundane.

I prefer standing on the balcony at night and looking at the blackness above the buildings towering above me and imagining stars that I can’t see through the pollution. But I guess I’m just looking up to a bigger window that I can’t reach just yet.

Another recycled post from the days when I had just one blog and it was called ‘Just a Statistic’. The weather seems to dictate it. I’m feeling exactly the way I felt 3 years back! Life is so cyclic.

Thursday, 5th August 2004

~ Drops of water ~

Insignificant little drops of water

Perfectly formed drop shaped drops of water
On people’s heads and oozing down their scalps
To slide down a strand of hair
And hang at its very tip

Powerful drops of water
Pouring down in sheets
Blocking my view in torrents
Pelting my back like tiny arrows

Round droplets of water
Dropping into the very heart of a puddle
Setting it alive in circular ripples
And sending a hundred more drops of water jumping out

Rhythmic drops of water
Symmetric broken lines of water
Slinking close to the pavement
Drumming down on roofs and windows and roads

A single drop of water
A feather kiss on a thread of copper
Flying sparks and a few screams
All for an insignificant little drop of water

Trickling drops of water
Salty drops balanced precariously on eyelids
Streaming down cheeks
Treacherous drops of water

I said I would, once long ago. Did I? Didn’t I? Not as well as I promised. But I’ll still try. This one is for the people I’ve held in a mental embrace, without letting them know. Maybe someday I will. Maybe tomorrow will be that day.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Monday, November 15, 2004

~ Just one day ~

If I could hold you for just one day
And make it a day of only happiness and smiles
And not let even a speck of dust touch you, let alone the darkness
And leave you with the memory of one safe haven on earth
I would

If I could care for you for just one day
And carry you over your hurdles to the best there is in you
And let you feel all the love and joy that there is to feel
So you knew how much of that was for you
I would

If I could cherish you for just one day
A day of celebration of you and you only
And accept you and treasure you as complete and perfect just as you are
And bring you the world singing and smiling for the wonder that is you
I would

If I could fulfil all your dreams for just one day
Bring you every single thing that you desire
And a new dream for every single waking moment
Make you believe that ‘life’ and ‘impossible’ are mutually exclusive
I would.

If I could love you for just one day
And have to walk away at the end of it
And never have you again
But leave you with the thought that one day is enough
And I would

Maybe tomorrow will be that day.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

My favorite time of the year has reached a close. I’ve been aflame, I’ve dried and crumbled and I’ve risen again. The flames caress me as gentle as a tender lover’s touch. I don’t fear them anymore. In memory of the more fiery summers that there were, which brought me to this one, a recycled post.

I burn, oh how I burn
All the bright sparks that flame around me
Catch in my dry, withering strands
Tiny prickles of heat
Silent glowing embers
And I smoulder
In ashes I sink from the weight
Of so much aridity
So much heat
Quietly I’m collapsing in on myself
But the insipidity that has clung on
Life notwithstanding
Hides my charred remains

I bid goodbye to the summer of 2007 and to the fire-demons of the past. And a warm welcome to the rains…maybe some day I’ll fall in love with you. Maybe that day will be today.

If I could utter just two words for my whole life I would say, “Never forget.”

Never forget anything or anyone. Any experience that changes you has already left an inerasable impression on you, which is the cause for the way you are after it has passed. Any person who touches you has left their signature on your life.

I find that increasingly more and more people believe that ‘forgetting’ is a way to progress. We are surrounded by self-help books, new age gurus, psychiatrists, talk shows, tabloid columnists and of course our indispensable friends and family. All of whom pour into our lives such thoughts as “Put it behind you.”, “Behave like nothing happened.”, “Its the past, it doesn’t matter any more.”
Oh, but I’d like to say, it does…it matters a whole lot. When someone says “The past doesn’t matter”, I hear his attitude speak “This interaction and you don’t matter. This present will someday become the past and no matter what you mean now, tomorrow the memory of you will be in my trash can.”

The past is as rungs on the ladder that we’ve climbed to come to where we are. How can we just wish them away? And visualize it, does it make sense to do that? Suppose just suppose, wishing could make it true….and you’d find yourself hanging in mid-air minus ladder and rungs. Are we like cartoon characters then, who, as long as they don’t realise it, are not affected by gravity?

CRRRRAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Back to ground zero. Which is why I say, never forget. Keep the ladder metaphor in mind. A ladder isn’t meant for standing on and admiring the view from mid-way. Its meant to reach you somewhere. So put your foot up and climb to the next one. Just don’t chop off the rungs that you’ve stepped on before you got to this place. Because as you climb higher, the rungs get steeper and more further away. And that’s when you count on your old experience to tell you how to reach the next rung.

Also every now and then you get to some place you think you cannot possibly take one step more. At that time remember what it was to take another step perhaps not so very long ago, and keep going on.
Is it just about learning from experience then? That doesn’t even begin to describe it. Its about acknowledging each and every moment of life and giving it its due.

Never forget a compliment. Nothing can bring a smile to your face quicker than the memory of a nice word.

Never forget an insult. Nothing charges you to push your limits better than the memory of someone challenging you that you can’t.

Never forget a bad intention or emotion. Greed, anger, envy, pride, sloth, lust, gluttony…the seven deadly sins. A million other shades have been generated by the creative human mind to portray the ugliness of humanity. These exist and its not realistic to expect otherwise. Protect yourself, remember all human beings are capable of them and remember that you are a human being too.

Never forget a good deed. Kindness, patience, empathy, inspiration….each of these come from the same human mind that the negative ones come from. And if the worst can be what we know it is, just think of what the other extreme may be like. These exist too, even if you see them very rarely. Don’t reject the idea, if they didn’t exist, the world as we see it wouldn’t exist.

Of course there is that which we just have to let go of. Traveling light is a good idea but traveling inadequately prepared isn’t. The distinction to make is just that. What to carry and what to discard…what constitutes baggage and what is just ‘lessons’? I don’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have so much material to sift through, which is what gave rise to these pearls of wisdom in the first place. I guess like our houses and office desks, our minds and lives need cleaning out every now and then too.
It is about being sentimental too, isn’t it? Yes, why not? What do we have left at the end of our lives but a handful of memories?

Why only at the end…at every single minute of our lives, what is it that we really have, as our own, that truly belongs to us, is a part of us…but our memories? “I wish I could forget everything that has happened so far” may not be such a great wish after all. Imagine the plight of someone who has no memories to fall back on…..what is such a person but a face without the expression?
A blank slate may be very inspiring. But then again, our lives aren’t blank slates that we start writing the minute we are born. Rather, in the world of that metaphor our lives are about learning how to create the slate, the chalk, figuring out the best way to hold it and then what to write, how to write it and how to fit it all in.

We are the sum total of all that we have thought, felt, said and done in every moment of our existence. Why would anybody want to diminish themselves by forgetting? That is why I say….never forget. Don’t ever forget.

Eyes ringed with dark circles, lids drooping, dull ache at the back of my neck..and my weekend’s only just beginning. I’ve been having a ‘social life’ in the past two days that I haven’t had for a long time – courtesy a friend who’s here from the city that really knows how to live – Bangalore. Here in Mumbai we’re great at surviving but living..wot is dat?

Dressing up and going out and music and drinks and conversations and reminiscences and dreams and arguments……god, that used to be my life once. Now the whole ‘me’ exists in my job profile. I don’t have an identity any more but I sure do have a visiting card. Wow.

Whatever happened to ‘Down with the establishment’ and ‘They don’t really care about us’ (yeah, yeah…I used to like MJ just like every second teenager around then). Whenever did those black tee-d, guitaring dudes turn into white-shirt and striped tie yuppies? And the ‘a girl for each weekend’ guys are turning in their Casanova hats and succumbing to holy matrimony…….gaaaaaaad!!!!!! The ‘babes’ are married and mamas, the ‘intellectual’ is planning a media campaign for a new detergent, the dreamer sells credit cards and the artist doodles on her pad while waiting for Mr.Whatsisname to confirm Tuesday’s meeting.

Whooo hoo hoo….who am I to complain? Lady rebel with the dirty jeans and a paintbrush stuck behind her ear now thinks of nothing other than deadlines and meetings. Wearing a violet shirt to work is my idea of daring now…..and Paintbrush is what you use to white out stuff on images before pasting them onto Powerpoint. I’ve gone from wild, reckless ‘high voltage’ bundle of energy to a dignified 25-year old professional…how’s that for value addition, how’s that for growing up, how’s that for a goodbye kiss to Life, the beautiful.

Thus ends the obituary of my youth, of the living, fire-breathing, cocked eyebrow me. My epitaph shall read “She used to have a life once!”

If last week was all about time (dates and days, dumb dithering dodos!), this week seems to be exclusively numbers. 30% of this work week gone. However I just might work the weekend so counting for a 6-day week makes it just 24.75% gone. And then again, if I can reschedule a couple of appointments to early evening, I’ll just go straight home and enjoy a half-day…..did I say enjoy….*sputter sputter* that just about completely screws up my calculations.

Why this preoccupation with details though? Countdowns, calendars, planners, diaries, calculators…..who in the world said time flies? I am suspended in a throbbing mass of soulless energy that only oscillates but never moves. Week to weekend, Friday to Monday…..all seems like one endless back-and-forth.