odd hours of a moonlit night.......

ha ha ha ha. . . Laughing out loud in the middle of a moonlit night. . . Wondering why? Makes me laugh again. . .
I think i'm suffering from insomnia..... Tried to put myself to sleep, tried many different positions but couldn't convince the crazy mind to rest for a while.... Sleeping only puts the body to sleep n not the mind.... It kicks in to think of a million things trying to convince you about what is necessary for it.... It makes you be biased while making your own opinions... But when your are aware of this truth you can fight the mind, let the common sense prevail.....
What do you expect me to write at this hour of the night.... Just trying to write something instead of watching the useless news...... Like always i'll take the twisted and twirled route to say the story so far.....
I am thinking of the song from kill bill which describes me well, i'm just a soul whose intentions are good, oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood..... Nah, i'm just boasting off my ego..... I need some time to reconnect with the reality that i've been running away from, which means i may have to leave the world of my imagination behind for a while..... Reality is in chaos and i need to pay my attention while my world can be built all over again..... Reality is where i live and the healthy existence in reality keeps me grounded and helps me have a stable time in the other world.....
I am finding it extremely difficult to type my mind on my small qwerty keyboard of my new phone..... This is my first post through my phone.... Next time i'll make sure i write smaller and simpler and better things at the right time than the odd hours.... But what has time got to do with what i have to say.... It doesn't guarantee rightness or simplicity.... Its all got to do with, what's on the fuckin fucked up mind.....for the moment i'm grounded in reality, see you all soon, for not all have the access to my li'l world.....not just because you don't deserve but also its safer for you here.....

Stoned................

Stoned, is what i am at this moment. I am up there flying so high from where the fall would take me forever to return. . . . Why bother to care where I belong when I fall, I am destined to hit the surface hard. . . . The surface would determine the intensity of pain; I have to go through at the time of impact. I just wish I have the right to make a choice of the surface to hit when I reach the ground.

I am just playing the fool with my mind. I know. I am. Can I really choose to do what the mind wants to do? Can I for once be true to myself . . . .? Can I leave the reality behind and make myself comfortable during the fall. . . . Can the fantasy last forever? Will the reality bite as hard as I imagine it to?

I don’t know – i am just learning a few things about myself in the last couple of days. I am beginning to know few truths about myself I had never realised before. I am two and one is alive and breathing while the other helps one breath and be alive.  I am now in state of chaos to find the right proportion of the two to be myself.

Why can’t I walk up to the terrace to spend a li’l time under the moon? We saw the moon when we took the flight high above – it was full and oozing light. Few thoughts of the night to be captured – Can we speak our emotions through our actions. Actions of what one is capable off.

My actions too can be mistaken even while I am falling. My intentions are interpreted in the perception of the other, what you meant has lost its importance and what is perceived gains momentum. This is the moment when the fall becomes bumpy and you realise you should’ve just let yourself down by not making those actions. . . .

I will put myself to sleep with some light music playing in my ears. I hope music overhauls the screams of the fear of pain one has in the mind when you hit the surface. I am yet to make the choice of the surface. I will fall without listening to my mind. I will sleep without doing that last thing that came to my mind. I don’t deserve to do it, though I hate this feeling of being undeserving. Emptiness takes over, darkness completes the picture for when I return it is all over for – forever is . . . .

ಬರಹಗಾರನಿಗೊಂದು ಪತ್ರ

ನಮಸ್ಕಾರ ಸ್ವಾಮೀ,

ನಿಮ್ಮ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಕೊಂಡ್ಡಿದೇನೆ, ಕೊಂಡ್ದಿದಕ್ಕೆ ಒಂದು ಬಗೆಯ ಖುಷಿ, ಇನ್ನೂ ಓದಿ ಮುಗಿಸಿದರೆ ಅನುಭವಿಸಬಹುದಾದ ಆನಂದವನ್ನು ಕಲ್ಪಿಸಿಕೊಂಡರೆ ಮೈ jhumm ಅನ್ನಿಸುತ್ತೆ. ಕಳೆದ ಭಾನುವಾರ C K P ಗೆ ಹೋಗಿದ್ದೆ, ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಆದದ್ದು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಪುಸ್ತಕದೊಂದಿಗೆ ನನ್ನ ಮೊದಲ ಭೇಟಿ. . . . "ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಚೀಟಿ ಅಂಟಿಸಬಾರದು", ಎಂದು ಕೂಗುವ ಒಂದು ಗೋಡೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಪುಸ್ತಕದ ಮುಖಪುಟ ನೋಡಿದೆ. ಅದರ ಮೇಲಿದ್ದ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಭಾವಚಿತ್ರ ನನಗೆ ಏನೋ ಹೇಳಿತು - ಜ್ಞಾನಕ್ಕೆ ಬೆಲೆ ಕಟ್ಟಲಾಗುವುದಿಲ್ಲ, Rs ೧೫೦/- ಜಾಸ್ತಿ ಏನು ಅಲ್ಲ, ಹೋಗಿ, ಕೊಂಡು, ಓದು. . . ಕಿವಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ನೀವೇ ಬಂದು ಹೇಳಿದಂತಾಯಿತು. C K P ಹತ್ರ ಎಲ್ಲೂ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಸಿಗಲಿಲ್ಲ. . . . 

ಮರುದಿನ ಅಂಗಡಿ ಮುಚ್ಚುವ ಸಮಯಕ್ಕೆ ಸರಿಯಾಗಿ ಜಯನಗರದ ಓಂಕಾರ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಬಂಡಾರಕ್ಕೆ ಲಗ್ಗೆ ಹಾಕಿದೆ. ನನ್ನ ಪುಣ್ಯ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಪುಸ್ತಕದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಅವರಿಗೆ ತಿಳಿದಿತ್ತು. ತಿಳಿದು, ಮತ್ತೆ ಖುಷಿಯಾಯಿತು. ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಖಾಲಿಯಾಗಿತ್ತು - ಮತ್ತೊಮ್ಮೆ ಖುಷಿಯ ಅನುಭವ. ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲೇ ನಮ್ಮ ಇನ್ನೊದು ಅಂಗಡಿ ಇದೆ, ತಂದು ಕೊಡುತ್ತೇನೆ. ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಕಾಯುತ್ತೀರಾ ? ? ? ಕೊಳ್ಳೋದಕ್ಕೆ ಸಿದ್ದನಾದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕಾಯೋದಕ್ಕು ತಯಾರಾಗಿದ್ದೆ. ನನ್ನ ಫೋನ್ ನಂಬರ್ ಕೊಟ್ಟು ಕಾಫಿ ಅಂಗಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಳಿತು ಪುಸ್ತಕದ ಬಗ್ಗೆಯೇ ಯೋಚನೆ ಮಾಡ್ತಾ ಇದ್ದೆ. . . . ಅದರಲ್ಲೂ ಒಂದ್ತರಾ ಸಂತೋಷ, ನಂಬಿದರೆ ನಂಬಿ ಬಿಟ್ಟರೆ ಬಿಡಿ ! ! ! ! !

ಕಾದಿದ್ದು ಕೊಂಡ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ನನ್ನ ಕೈಯಲ್ಲಿತ್ತು, ಅದೊಂದು ಬಗೆಯ ಖುಷಿ. ಬಣ್ಣಿಸಲು ನನಿಂದಾಗದ ಕೆಲಸ. ನನ್ನ ಕನ್ನಡ ಪದ ಸಂಕಲನದ ಕೊರತೆ, ಇದಕ್ಕೆ ಕಾರಣ ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಲು ವಿಷಾದಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ. ಆದ್ರೆ ಒಂದು ಮಾತ್ರ ಕಚಿತ. ಓದಿದೆಲ್ಲ ಅರ್ಥ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಳ್ಳೋ ಶಕ್ತಿ, ಸಾಮರ್ಥ್ಯ ನನಗಿದೆ. ನೀವು, ನನ್ನ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ' useless ' [ಅವನನ್ನ ಏನು ಅಂತಾರೆ ಸ್ವಾಮೀ] ನನ್ನ ಮಗನ ಕೈಯಲ್ಲಿದೆ ಎಂಬ ದುಃಕ ನಿಮಗೆ ಬೇಡ . . . 

ಇಷ್ಟೆಲ್ಲಾ ಅನುಭವಿಸಿ, ಕೊಂಡ ಪುಸ್ತಕದ ಮೊದಲ ಸಾಲು ಓದಿದೆ.  ಅರ್ಪಣೆ. . . . ನೀವೇ ಹೇಳಿದ ಹಾಗೆ Rs ೧೫೦/- ವ್ಯರ್ಥವಾಗಲಿಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬ ಸಾರ್ಥಕತೆಯ ಅನುಭವ, ಅದರಿಂದಾದ ಆನಂದಕ್ಕೆ ಎಲ್ಲೇ ಇಲ್ಲ. . . . ಮುನ್ನುಡಿ ಓದಿದೆ, ಲಾಟರಿ ಹೊಡೆದ ಆನಂದ. ಏಕೆ ? ಅಂತೀರಾ ? ? ?  ನಿಮ್ಮ e mail I D ಸಿಕ್ತು ಅನ್ನೋ ಸಂತೋಷ. I D ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದಾಕ್ಷಣ mail ಕಲಿಸಬೇಕೆಂದು ನಿರ್ಧರಿಸಿದೆ. ಅವಕಾಶ ಸಿಗಲಿಲ್ಲ. . . . Almost ಅರ್ಧ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಒದಾಗಿದೆ. ಆದರೂ ನನ್ನ ಅನಿಸಿಕೆ ನಿಮಗೆ ತಿಳಿಸಲು ಇಷ್ಟವಿಲ್ಲ. ಅಲ್ಪ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ನಾನು ಬರಿತ್ತೀನಿ, ಬರಹಗಾರನ ಕಲ್ಪನೆಗೂ, ಓದುಗನ ಕಲ್ಪನೆಗೂ ಅಜಗಜಾಂತರ ವ್ಯತ್ಯಾಸವಿರುವ ಸತ್ಯ ನನಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತು. . . . MaTa ಮತ್ತು ಎದ್ದೇಳು... ಎಷ್ಟು ಸಾರಿ ನೋಡಿದರೂ ನನ್ನ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯಾ ಕಾರಣದಿಂದಲೋ ಏನೋ - ಏನೋ ಒಂದು ಹೊಸ ವಿಷಯ ತಿಳಿದ ಅರಿವು ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಕಾಡುತ್ತದೆ. ಪುಸ್ತಕವೂ ಹಾಗೆ ಇದೆ ಎಂದು ಮಾತ್ರ ಹೇಳಲು ಬಯಸುತ್ತೇನೆ . . . . 

ನೀವು ಹೇಳಿದಕ್ಕೆ ತದ್ವಿರುದ್ದವಾಗಿ, ನೀವು ಯಾವ ಪುಸ್ತಕದ ಮುನ್ನುಡಿ ಓದುವುದಿಲ್ಲವೋ, ಅದೇ ಮುನ್ನುಡಿಯನ್ನು ಓದಿದ ಕಾರಣದಿಂದ ಹುಟ್ಟಿದ ಪತ್ರ ಇದು. ಓದಿದ ಆ ಕ್ಷಣ , ಬರೆಯಬೇಕೆನಿಸಿದ ಆ ಕ್ಷಣ, ಬರೆಯಲು ನನಗೆ ಅವಕಾಶ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದಿದ್ದರೆ, ಇದೆ ನನ್ನ ಮೊದಲ ಸಾಲಗಿರುತಿತ್ತೇನೋ? ? ? ಇಂತಿ ನಿಮ್ಮ, ಸದಾ ಎದ್ದಿರುವ ಮಂಜುನಾಥ, ಮಂಜುನಾಥನ ಹೆಸರು,

ಯತೀಸ. . . 

ಎದ್ದೆ ಇರ್ತೀನಿ, ಯಾವಾಗ ಬೇಕಾದ್ರೂ reply ಮಾಡಬಹುದು, expectation ಏನೂ ಇಲ್ಲ. . . . 

one for october . . . .

21 days into the month and nothing posted on my blog . . . . so here's a post for this month just to make sure that I've posted something. I don't want oct 2010 missing from the archive list. . . .

Is it worth reading . . . .

i don't think so. . . . if it is then I am glad.

what can i write now. . . so much, but i am lazy to type, writing is easier i feel.

I've written loads of stuff which is in my diary and I am in no mood to type it all once again . . . .

does that mean i am going lazier by the day or am i losing interest in blogging . . . .

I guess its none of them. . . .

I had been to shimoga this month after a long time . . . . just the perfect break my mind was craving for. . .

there's nothing on my mind right now, I may just write something later in the night or another time when i am in better mood. . . I'll not even highlight anything in this post. . . .

when will i end this. . . . .

i don't think it has even begun for it to deserve an end. . . .

it will, when I come back some day when I am in mood for some philosophy to write the beginning which may direct me to think of an end. . . .

what is this then . . . . .

its absolutely nothing . . . . . 

I didn't stick to my word, I just highlighted the most worthless line in the post. See, its not because i've lost interest in blogging that I've posted this, i did take time to type this. . . . i am not lazy either.

words to lines . . . . .

just a few lines using a few words from here and there to see if the words can come together to make any sense . . . . 

.......................................

fighting the self to strive

desperation helps you push the limits

to reach for the skies

become one among the stars

one that shines brighter than the rest

with all the shine and all the glow

another time another night. . . . .

......................................

enjoy what you have

it makes the moment worth living

as you live you learn to see

long to see the light while in darkness

as time flies to see the next time

it is momentary and yet eternal

lasts a lifetime defying reason

nothing can beat this feeling 

is to crave for more of what you want

forever is to exist beyond the time itself . . . . 
anyways it is the end. . . . . 

........................................................................

how i killed the lies. . . .

everything i ever said was never a lie but i want to know the truth. . . . .

let me know the truth.

what did i say. . . .

oh you don't know that. . . .

i said everything. . . .

thought you heard it when i said it. . . . .

said what. . . . :)

everything. . . .

 now that you like it, u must know what i said. . . .

i said i never lied. . . . . .

if i have never lied then why is it not the truth. . . . . .

 everything you ever say need not be truth. . . .

if what i said is not a lie then everything i said must be truth.

so i should rephrase the statement. . . .

will it mean the same when i rephrase it. . . .

ohhhhhhhhhhhh my gawd,.....thn?....:0...

should it mean the same. . . . .

let me try to rephrase first and see what it means. . . . .

i never lied but what is the truth . . . .

then how about something like this. . . .

like what . . . .

the one below. . . .  

everything i ever said was always the truth but then what happened to the lies. . . .

i think the first one was better . . . .

there was place for both lie and the truth. . . . .

ya xactly ...dats da point.....its interesting....

here there is only truth . . . .

Did i just kill a "LIE"

WOW ! ! ! ! ! LOL. I just killed "THE LIES"

NOW TRUST ME - I never lied when i said everything i EVER said - I only speak the truth. . . .

thats all folks. . . .

how i unblocked my mind. . . . . .

Last things first, This this the last thing which struck me before i publish this post. Before I typed all this which you may read in a while, I never knew the possibilities. In the mean time while I typed all this shit, Ullas came up with some awesome watercolor paintings off which I may flick one and clip it on to my gallery. . . . He's an artist of another kind and i own a gallery of another kind.

Just an hour ago, I was going through a mind block and now i'm high on thoughts.

I just killed all the lies with just a few lines of words which were put together in a way to make no sense to anyone. I successfully separated the lies and the truth. A divorce of sorts. It does not matter if what i said is right or wrong. They are true, no matter what.

That is probably the power of what one feels. Then I learned a lesson or two about feelings. . . . Feelings are better than the form they take. I can surrender myself to the millions of words in the English dictionary to describe that feeling and the form. I hardly know a few, the very few i know at this moment and a few which I may learn as I learn to live while I continue to live.

While trying to overcome the mind block I realized something about 'the moment'. How a moment comes to exist and and how it ends. A moment is neither a scalar nor a vector quantity. . . It cannot be gauged by time. The moment lived 'now' continues to exist for as long as you find another moment to replace the last. I will write about all that and more someday when i am low on thoughts, for today is dedicated to remind me of what to write on that someday.

Also realized, how being an architect, I would end up living the lives of all the different kinds of people who come to me to design for them. I've to live their life to know their way of life to design something that would suit them to live or I will have failed myself as an architect. In doing so, the only time outside of the time when I get to live my life as an architect might be between 40 and 50, i am just predicting, they are just numbers, when i get to design my own House. Don't try to even imagine for a moment how my way of life would be unless i come to you to design my house..... 

This is the second time i tried the same trick to come out of the mind block. While the first time I thought the same state as being a 'writer's block'. Any person doing any work, when he is stuck for ways to do things is called 'his block'. . . . When you are designing something and stuck then you can call it a 'designer's block' . . . . What I realized today is that, every time its was 'the mind block', irrespective of what you are trying to do. I cracked it and its flowing out in all directions and here's where i am trying to gather them.

Last few words . . . . .

What would be the last few words you would write when you just have one last empty page to write and memories of a lifetime to choose from. Well, that definitely is a tough situation to be in. I am certainly not in one such situation, for, though this is the last page available in this book, I believe in time and their is hope of finding another empty page someday. . . . But if I were to write something on this page and call this the end, then there's no need to write anything any further, the page is no longer empty. The emptiness is taken care off. . . . .

What's written above is nothing great or important, its only a way of making the book complete, emptiness creates a void and the void needs to be filled in order to make anything complete. What this once empty page in this book made me realize is that there's a possibility of being in a situation you dare not dream of. . . .

This thought will last in my mind and will continue to remind me of a time when I may have to write something for the last time on the last page at a point in time when there's no hope of time or another empty page, to write those last few words after which you may call it "the END" . . . . 
Oops, all this while, while I thought of those last thoughts to be penned down, I forgot about the importance of the pen which enables one to translate what's on the mind into a transcript. . . .

2nd day of August 2010. . . . . . .

Its been a while since i posted something on my blog. Well not really long if you consider that a fortnight to be a short period of time. While I was looking back at my diary to choose from a long list of articles, I thought this post should not be one of those cooked up stories revolving around one of those people I met somewhere or I saw or my perception about others or whatever. It been a while since I've been a li'l philosophical about the li'l things that have always enticed me. . . . . So here's a li'l twisted perception of a conversation with a friend that's been morphed to differ from my first article in my New diary.

Looking at all the empty pages in this new diary, I can feel the excitement already. Excitement to see what fills into these pages in sometime, even though I am not sure how long is this sometime.

I remember writing this somewhere yesterday, "Re-Reading Your own book is like time traveling to a place and time you've been before". I can't remember all the responses which few of my friends made when I posted it on a social network but one them was very interesting and well framed, It caught my attention. She said - "We are not exactly time traveling - but it's the memories of the past which replays in front of you, while you're being a spectator. Your past does the time traveling to meet you in the present".

While I am writing this thinking about that, I wonder, what I am writing in this page now will go on to be memories of today for tomorrow. Since time only knows to pass to be left behind, it's up to us to pick up those moments and move forward. What she said  makes perfect sense in here. Every time you open the book, you make these moments part of the present at that point in time.

But this acceptance of memories traveling to be part of the present, makes me wonder once again if the past really deserves a place in the present. May be it all depends on what memories we have captured in past. Do we really want those memories to be part of the present. Do we have a choice to make - whether, to let something from the past be part of the present or some part of the present be left behind with the past, every time we reopen the pages of history of our own lives. . . . 

Today, if I look back at the memories of My yesterday and let it be part of my today, only to make it a memory of the today for my tomorrow, which, when I look back once again, will only be the yesterday. My today may well be missing in the tomorrow for its filled with my yesterday. So every time I re read my own diary, I am letting my past overwhelm my present. . . . . 

On the contrary, When I time travel to the past,  to revisit those memories of yesterday, My present will be part of yesterday and once I am done with the rendezvous with my past, I am back in the today and my Today will always remain Today as Tomorrow's yesterday. . . .

Why we live the way we live . . . .

This is all but a copy paste post that i am about to present to you all. . . . its a story of one boy on road to being a man raising this question at the world. Let me start the copy paste act and see where this thing leads.

boy - small doubt - why we live the way we live ? ? ? ? ?

few people along the way liked it . . . yeah rite. they liked the question. 

I am not in mood to highlight the key words like the other posts . . . you have to bare the brunt of having to strain your eyes a li'l more to get the details.

Because we have learnt the art of living over million years...and not ready to go beyond our comfort zone to explore more - she said. . . somebody else liked what she said.

may be because we like the way we live :) - said another . . . 

boy goes upto the former and says - does that mean, we are leaving behind nothing new to learn for the future generation, for we are living the way we learnt from our past and our past doesn't belong to us . . . . Are we living somebody's life or is it ours? ? ? ? raises few more questions. Too many contradiction in my mind, its just one of them. . . 

one more comes up to him and says - Has Howard Roark gotten into you? - He was a famous character that most of the architects would be aware off and want to be like. . . . 

In the mean time some one who seems to be very content comes up with this - Its too much of a risk to explore other ways of living !!!!

Now the boy decides to  raise few more questions irrespective of knowing the answers - how did one learn to live the way he did live when there was no past to learn from? ? ? ??
did one live to leave behind a legacy for the rest to follow? ? ? ?
well few more questions ? ? ? ? - then he says to all - looking forward to more questions than answers.

She comes back and says - over years we have learnt from our mistakes and we still are learning. our way of life has been changing slowly, so slowly that its difficult realize during our lifetime. Its a never ending process so its more like we learnt from our past and are still learning. so we are leading our lives and not someone else's.

One of his friends who heard his question came up with this piece of information - Darwin's theory of evolution says, Every species carries a trait of previous generation of species.(GENETICS).Similar with actions, life, philosophy everything, even design. ....There is a TED talk by Ar.Bjarke Ingles, he explains it towards design. So again its the same old philosophy "Life is a journey".

When there is instincts you need no past - says the content soul.

Then another one comes back to say - Principle of life lies in these 3 words Past, Present, Future.
Past is history,
Future is mystery ,
the workmanship required to link History and mystery is the PRESENT...
PRESENT- can be fun if u like mystery and equally miserable if you don't. does this solve your questions boy.....

The boy listens to all and in a hurry says - The journey of life is it's purpose - "A great man" once said . . .
believed it so much that I put it on my profile. . .
Will elaborate later. .. . got to go now.

In the mean time there were few like the one here, who just heard the conversation and silently had fun - finally said - ‎:) and it was fun listening to all that :).. good question boy :)

And she says - why not ???

sometime later the boy comes back after doing a lot of things that is unnecessary to be known at this juncture and says - let me just move away from We to Me, Why I live the way I live.
Is there a way to live or should i live to know the way to live and If I have lived to know the way to live then Is there any point in knowing the way to live for I have already... lived the way I didn't know. . . . ? ? ? ? MIND FUCK. . . . 

That's the confusion. Is living the way YOU want to live the best option then? ? ? ? ? 

A young girl listening to all the big talk comes up to the boy and says -  U should mainly Live a Life to confuse people like dis..!!! Hee he hee.. :D

So the boy says - do not consider my words seriously, especially if you're confused. . . :) he walks up to the girl - makes her feel she's too small for the conversation by saying - A friend of mine used to say this in college - The more you learn, the more you know, the more you know, the more you forget, the more you forget, the less you know then Why learn ? ? ? ?

Haa ha haaa... I'm already confusd..!! :P - says the young girl and runs to momma !!!!

The boy thinks of all that people were telling him and responds to all - 

I would say the same to the way we live. . . . we have to learn n we have to live. . . .

'my dear friend' - what darwin said was his analogy of the way man lived till the time darwin could see . . . he never prescribed the way to live for the future generation. . .
I've seen the talk by Ar.Bjarke Ingles and the way he design is his way of designing, its not universal code for design. . . 

May be we just have to figure it out ourselves. . . . 

'howard roark' - Had he got into my shoes, I bet he'd be psyched out. . .'another one' - Just trying to figure out the same, the relation between the past, present n the future - Searching for the thin line. . . :)

'the silent listener' - Have more fun . . . 

'young girl' - don't be - you'll figure it out someday.

Indeed Boy,  it is going on like you said... :)
I n t e r e s t i n g  - said a friend of the boy.

an intellect comes up to the boy and says - Hey, listen boy, very interesting and diverse, how all of us think about living our lives, considered that we LIVE each n every day.
" I live the way i live my life", coz thats d way i design my life to be with the choices i make. I dunno if its a gud or... a bad design, honestly it doesn't bother me as much as it matters that I AM DESIGNING IT. :) and thus my learning happens.

Boy continues to raise more questions - Are you really making the choices or is it the choice is being forced on to you. . . . . Can't we live with all the choices, why choose one. . . . :)

LIVING is a way of being. and only u can choose how u wish to be. Or that you are a certain way because u already made the choice, else it woudnt be in you life. U can choose as many choices u want. (I dunno where this choose 1 comes from) Its easy to choose but can U live up to it is the question ??? Will u go the extra mile to make it happen?? Dats d reason your "to do" lists do not get done, our resolutions are so brittle , and worse in total denial. :)  - she says 

boy now putting on a fake mask of a mature man says - well coming to the bucket list - its always a never ending one atleast in my case. . .
I would definitely love to go for "that" extra mile - Provided the petrol cost doesn't rise any further. . . .
PS : Petrol - not to be read literally ! ! !

All in good vain, the girl says - LOL. Well. No one said it would be easy. Its a process of LIVING N discovery.
Agree wid u on the petrol note.:-)

A cynical optimist as she prefers to call herself says - A question to your question ..Why CAN'T WE LIVE THE WAY WE WANT TO LIVE?

Like a gentleman, the boy walks upto the cynic and says in her ears - another question to your question - Do we know the way we want to live? ? ? ?
In fact, it is these questions and the process of us finding the answers that's exciting than the Answer itself. . . .
remember- journey of life is its purpose.

Another girl walking past the two of them overheard the conversation and said to the boy who was, well, almost there at the threshold of manhood - of course......everyone does....thats a pretty easy one....for guys the most easy and the lazy way...girls usually varies with the type ......tumbaa tension bedaa boy!!! life and all events in life just happens u see.... no need to think too much....

At the end of it all "the man in the boy" says - yochane yaar madtha idaare - yellara thaleyaloo hula bidtha ideeni ashte . . . you've got the point but - I agree that all events happen by itself, then why is it that we end up our lives preparing for those events to happen. . . . :)

Just trying to keep the mind busy - not mine. . . . 

Rendezvous with strangers........

Well its been a long time i wrote about one of the strangers from my elite list. When the thought struck to address one of them, it was hard to resist the temptation to remember "the li'l girl on the highway".

Li'l GIRL on the highway...

Every time while talking to people about my passion for photography, I am quick to recollect the story of how I found this girl on the highway, on our way back home from pondicherry.

I have always believed that this pic of the girl which i clicked on that sunny day in black n white mode in my Nokia N73 camera phone is still one of my personal favorite and best picture, that I've been able to frame till date.

I shall post the picture of the girl at the end of the post for my description of the girl and your imagination of the same will be impacted by the visual.

In fact I was shocked at the final picture, as I was clicking it with a camera phone and had to force see the frame on screen due to bright sunlight.

We were working at CnT at the time of this trip. A gang had already gone to pondicherry and it was an instant decision, like most of the times, that me n savan took, to travel to pondy on my bike. We woke up early and started our long ride, one of the earliest bike rides. We were on our way to surprise the rest of the gang.

 I'll not be elaborating much about how we got there, what we did there, where we stayed, though the trip will be remembered for what happened to kiran [churan as he's famously known in CnT]. On the night when we reached pondy, Akbar suggested that we pack him up into a sack and bury him somewhere in the CnT campus. You must know that CnT is privileged to have a huge campus with lots of vegetation, more like a mini forest if you would like some exaggeration. All of us were stoned and high while Kiran was fucked up. . .

That's all about the stay at pondicherry. It's time to begin the return journey and meet the girl. Well, there's no hurry, She'll get to the place where we stop by to wash our car and bike, only once we reach the place. She's not waiting there. ANYWAYS, I cannot resist to be at the place as soon as possible. . . .

I must add a li'l bit about the fight to grab the handle of my bike by the members of the other gang. Me and Savan make a gang too. . . Mr. and Mrs. Patel were not interested in the bike as they were "the Santrowaale", the smart ones. That leaves only Akbar, Suraj and Kiran to fight it out. Kiran some how managed to get to the steering wheel of Santro and that sort of took him out of the competition for the bike. . . Now you must have had a clear Idea of Who, When I said "We" were still working in CnT.

Me n Savan were never willing to give away the bike to anyone, though our backbones were craving for those cushioned seats of Santro. So we decided one of us would always hang on to the bike. When Akbar was riding, Savan was inside the car and when Suraj took to the handle, it was Savan's turn to sit behind the Man. Where am I? ? ? I am either sitting behind Akbar or resting on the cushioned seats in the car. Quite obvious, yes, it is. . . . one of my silly pleasures, to simply confuse people.

While writing this, I realized that I was always in the illusion that I had taken the picture of the girl in My Nokia N73 but here I stand corrected, It was this picture that I shot in Akbar's N73 that inspired me to buy an N73,  for the impression that the clarity of the picture made on me. This was the reason I have the pictures of the return journey from pondy and not the otherwise. 

As I told you earlier, while akbar was riding the bike, I would take the pillion seat with his camera in my hand and shoot anything and anyone. . . . At 100kmph speed you don't expect clear shots, especially when you are sitting behind on a bike, that's not just going fast but flying low!!!!

Please don't charge of plagiarism, I picked that line about flying low on one of those days when I was stuck in a traffic jam. It was written on one of the bikes - hold your imagination rite there - he wasn't flying, remember the traffic jam. It was apt for this situation.

I think I'll just plug in something that I had written about photography sometime back, which was never touched after wards. Its about what I felt about photography and the frame that was captured. "Each shot framed tells me a story and the moment in the frame helps build a story before and after the moment. The picture itself tells the story that is beyond the moment captured in the frame. Each picture becomes a point of reference to the origin and the end of not just the narrator[cameraman] but also the subject.

Well on our way back, Mehul spotted this small water body and stopped over to clean his dirty santro. The man was good at that, I mean spotting these beautiful serene locales along the way. You see larger the surface, more prone you are to dust accumulation. It is here that we came across this girl who was with her friends, baring it all to the hot sun with only the modesty covered. I remember savan n suraj pulling my leg saying - there he goes to shoot his Kingfisher calendar for the season. . . . Well, when I did decide to make my calendar - I used her pic for my birth month. . . . .

What happened after I shot the girl and showed it to her and my friends, as they say the rest was history, Remember I told you earlier the picture is a point of reference between today and yesterday and the moment in between. . . . 

That's for now. . . . :)

chocolates n a li'l money n volleyball net n wrap. . . one more session all that and more.

My share . . . .

This is a small something written immediately after I wrote about the beautiful Muslim women. This couldn't have been added along with that, as both are very diverse in nature.The decision of writing was taken immediately after the series of events mentioned below occurred,  it is only the last act that prompted me to write this. . .

While I was writing about the BMW, Mr. Raj walked up to me and said he was pissed off in his life. . . . He never told me the reason for being pissed off. He wanted to go and stay alone in solitary Isolation for sometime. Some disappointment was troubling him and it was seen all over his face.

In the mean, there were a couple, just the two of them, no friends for company were seated in the corner table next to the window. It was the girls' birthday and I could see the two struggling to capture themselves in the same frame. I could have volunteered to click their picture but I was busy capturing the BMW in black gowns in my imagination. She cut the cake, shared a bite with each other and cut the cake into pieces and shared it with everyone in the shop including me and Mr. Raj. We got our share and wished her a routine happy birthday complimented with a fake smile. . .  Accepted the thanks and returned the same for the cake. . . .

With a piece of cake in our hands, Me and Mr. Raj continue to discuss the reason for him being upset. Still disappointed, while Mr. Raj thinks whether to share his grief with a near stranger somebody or not, I finished My share of cake and said to Mr. Raj - The cake is superb and delicious. . . .
Mr. Raj, still with that disappointed expression on his face, generously offered me his piece of cake and said - "Please have mine too". . . .

The offer was quite tempting but I resisted the temptation and said to him - "Whether you like it or not, you have to have your share for yourself. What comes in your share is yours". Maybe he got the message loud and clear, with a smile on his face, he ate the cake and walked back to the counter to attend his customers.

Did I not tell you this a small something. . . :)

Chicks I may never click

I am a self proclaimed amateur photographer as most of you known, who shoots anything and anyone, specially inclined at clicking pictures of anyone. Therein is a glitch, when I say anyone. There is one set people I may never dare to click. . . . They are one of the most interesting subjects of photography that I’ve come across. They speak with their eyes or I should rather be saying “their eyes speak”. . . .

With all the respect to the culture they follow, which forbids them to dress like others, I must admit that it is beautiful. It is this very same reason that endears me to crave to click their pictures. I am referring to the beautiful Muslim women draped in their black gowns from head to toe. All you see are those two twinkling eyes that speak a million words that I do not understand. . .

These women in black, with their eyes visible through the narrow slit, offer a fantastic frame to capture. There’s something about these ladies in black that stands out in every frame you can think of. May be it’s the black. As they say black absorbs all the light that falls on it, I would rather believe black dominates all else. . . Be it a colour photo or a black n white portrait, you’ll see the dominance of black in every frame and that’s exactly what excites me to want to capture them. What’s hidden in those long black gowns never really matter to the onlooker; it’s the eyes that do the magic. The modesty is treasured within. . . . It is this aspect that their culture has, maybe, forced onto them, as few liberal ones may argue. Well I am not complaining, it’s the very same culture that makes these ladies in black stand out in the crowd. . . .

Why I say that I may never click these beautiful ladies is for a simple reason – the fear of a situation that we have created in our so called cosmopolitan society, that endears you to consequences that may not be dear to both, me and her. . . What you just read is the frame that I failed to click every time she walked past me, be it in a lonely road or a busy street. . . Now you know why.

that's a friend who posed naturally for me to click these few pics. . . . 

 

Take my breath away

I am just being stupid, like most of the times. I will continue to be stupid for as long as being stupid is categorized into an act of crime.

Well, before writing the actual intent, I was thinking about writing how the reader has to perceive me to understand how stupid I can get. Then I’ll have to write whole lot of things, which I’ve mentioned at different times in different articles n stories. So anyone is who’s known me with my earlier post will understand my stupidity and those reading it for the first time can either choose to read the earlier posts or believe their imagination. I suggest the latter, for it offers more masala. . . .

Coming back to the topic, “Take my breath away”, it sounds all very romantic, it does . . . But I am not. I deprive article an opportunity to be romantic. I am like always unable to grip things in an order, which can give a clear picture. Blame it on my poor command over the language I’ve chosen to interpret. . . In fact this is the best I can do in any language, so here is how I put together the loose ends in a not so romantic tale. . . .

With the li’l interpretation skills that I am blessed with, I shall try to build suspense in the story, once it starts. At any point in time when I fail to hang on to the suspense, I shall blow it all up. . . Nevertheless I shall try. I am pushing myself into the deep waters, though with strings attached, Just in case I sink to the bottom.

One day later, I understand there is a difficulty for me to get back into the groove, Time has passed and so has thoughts. . . What started as a thought yesterday, while I was looking out of the window at the coffee shop has now gone on to become a Memory. The story now is no longer an interpretation of the thought, its a recollection of the memories of yesterday. As nothing was scripted yesterday and all I relied on were the visuals of the scenes as they happened in front of my eyes, I have to now essay them as a canvas, painted in the colours of my imagination.

Even if I were to write what was happening in front of me yesterday, I would largely rely on my imagination to carve out a story. I am looking beyond what was evidently visible. In order to get myself back into believing this and to make my mind understand that lapse of time has not affected what was being penned yesterday, I had to think of all that You read. . . . Could’ve gone on to write a lot more but I guess this should suffice.

He stood there, on the sidewalks of the busy street in jaynagar 4^th block. I watched his movements and all things around him from 14’ above the ground beneath me. I was sitting on the first floor, right on the edge of the window to grab a better view of things as they happened and cooking up my own fictional story based on visual realities.

Now while I continue to write, in spite of being in no mood to imagine, I start with things I saw. The road was buzzing with vehicles, each one competing with the other, may be to reach the destination. I could sense from the sound of the horn that each one made to the other, which was their way of saying “Get off my way”. None of them seemed to be enjoying the journey or was it the people inside???

The coffee shop that I am sitting right now is exactly opposite to jaynagar water tank. When I turn my head to the right and look diagonally, I see a huge propped cantilever pipe at the same level myself. It’s an outlet pipe to refill the tanks to supply to the undersupplied areas around Jaynagar. Once the refilling is done and the truck is moved, you can see water trickling down the pipe, which should suffice the water requirement for a family of four for a day. Most of the times you see the water going waste, straight into the drainage but at times you can find the vendors collecting water for their routine chores. Passersby freshen up in the trickling water to beat the heat of on a sunny day. Though I am not sure on how many sunny days, water continues to trickle down. I wonder what they all would do, when the water stops leaking???

You also have the BDA complex adjoining to the water tank. You can see hundreds of people busy buying things. You get all things a typical middle class family in India needs for their existence. You must just take a stroll by these shops to learn the tricks of Bargain and Trade. One who bargains gets the satisfaction of having saved a little money and yet the vendor makes his cut in spite of bargaining. I guess it’ll be party time for the vendor when a customer fails to bargain.

Then you have the street vendors running behind you, if you were to be walking those streets, trying to impress you to buy their products. Some will be successful and some fail. Failure never stops them as, they continue to try and impress the passerby.

Oops, almost forgot to mention, The Police personnel who are out there to add more misery to the already miserable lives of the street vendors. Miserable not for the way they live, but for the way they are made to live. Either of them are always are always on the lookout for the other. Most of the vendors with shops have an understanding with the cops which gives them the privilege to flood half the side walk. They pay them on a daily basis – irrespective of the prospect of business. The vendors without the shops are the ones who are most affected. They have to lookout for the officer on duty and run with their make shift shop, at the first sight of him. I am not saying cops are bad people, they have their own miseries. Have you ever wondered where a cop would, take a leak or have his meal in the noon???  That’s what I am talking about. What we pay the cops is for the misery that they go through for us.

I think I’ve touched upon most of the things and scenes one would get to see, if they were to be seated in my seat and looking out through the large window opening to the setting sun. Although there are one more set of people, whom you see on these sidewalks and they are called beggars.  Now I have come to believe that there are two kinds of beggars, the professional and the helpless. The professionals are the lazy bones, who are normal people just like me and you, making a living out of begging. They are just lazy but they ‘work’ as beggars. You see the money is unbilled and tax free. It’s hard to differentiate the two. The lazy bones are too professional, but the eye can spot the real ones from the other. The helplessness is evidently written all over the body and their eyes fail to lie. . . . Try this the next time you come across a beggar on the signal – look into their eyes. The helpless ones win you over and they make you feel helpless. He’s the real helpless one out there begging, I hate to use the word ‘beggar’. The helpless sounds better and so are we . . . .

The protagonist, the one who is standing on the sidewalk is one amongst the many, whom I’ve mentioned.

It’s been three days since I started writing this and I’ve not yet come to the point. I was just enjoying the journey unlike the vehicles or the people inside them, who seemed to be in a hurry.

He’s a hefty man, looking for people who’d be interested in some of the things he has. He’s one among the many street vendors. . . He sold happy things. Yes, that right. They are happy things. All things he sells are associated with happiness. That makes the things to be happy things, for when one holds them in their hands; it puts a smile on your face.

Today as I sit at the same place, where I started this story yesterday, I can see a family is bargaining with him. Yes, of course there are kids with them. Another family with kids stand by to see if anything is worth to buy. Whatever they pay him, will be worth the happiness that’s associated with things. But maybe they have different understanding of worthiness and Happiness. . . .

Not all families that stop by buy happiness that the man was selling. All things he’s put on display are very rich and vivid. That’s very necessary to pull the kids close to your stall and the Parents shall follow, leaving behind their window shopping – gazing at things that they cannot afford to buy, while the kid slips close to the toys on display with the man on the sidewalk. The kid begins to play with the toys on display, until the tall, dark, big man scares the kid with his imposing look . . . but looks can be deceptive, yet he sells happiness. By the way he’s a toy seller. . .

Not all things he’s selling are finished factory made products. There’s one thing which he completes standing on the sidewalk, looking at the people as they walk past him. What he does with this one thing is what entices the kids to go close to his display. It is one among the many things that he’s put up for sale but this is the cheapest of them all . . . .

Few of them are already on display. They are colourful, bright, delicate and light. They are hanging with their heads tied to long elastic bands. The elastic bands too are colourful. This time they are red. They move from left to right, to and from to the gushing breeze every time a vehicle hustles past the portable shop. As the vehicles rush past the shop off the road, the kids in the vehicles put their hands out and before they can tell their parents that they want one, they would’ve gone past the shop and reached a point of no return. . . . The road is a one way.

The cheapest happy things remains hung with their heads tied to the elastic band as they sway to the light breeze and as it sways close to the people walking past, it seems to tell in their ears, - “Take my breath away”. . . . The breath of the tall, dark and hefty man, standing on the sidewalk of the busy street buzzing with vehicles – all in a hurry to reach the destination. The same breath of air that he breaths just like me and you. The smoke from the vehicles, smoke from the cigarettes that a few people blow out killing cigarettes instantly before they kill themselves and the tall dark big man and me and you . . . .

As he breathes the air that I told you earlier, he runs his hand through a small plastic packet and picks up a colourful tiny sad thing. Well, you take that thing and give it anybody, it wouldn’t make them happy and so I chose to call it “a sad thing”. It needs something, that which the man will fill into it to make it a happy thing.

In his hands, the tiny sad thing is pressed and pulled at the same time, as he breathes the polluted air and puts the head of the sad thing in his mouth and blows the same air he’s been breathing into the tiny sad thing. As he breathes out the air, the tiny sad thing grows out to reach the break point, that’s when he stops blowing out the polluted air into the sad thing, by now the sad thing has grown out to be “a big thing of joy”. . .

It is this act of blowing the tiny sad thing into a big, delicate thing of joy, that brings the kids close to the display.  . . Each tiny sad thing as it grows into a thing of joy before its hung with its head tied to the red elastic band or bursting of over joy, it brings a smile on the face of the kid. . . .

Well its no longer a surprise that I was talking about the how the toy vendor is blowing out balloons, that he tied their heads to an elastic band as if to safeguard his breath of air, the very same air that converted the tiny sad thing into a big thing of joy. Finally as he hung each of those things of joy on display along with the other toys- the happy things, the balloons said the same thing that the man[master] wanted to tell the people walking past them, as they swayed in the breeze, all things said in the same vain – “Take my breath way” . . .

Yesterday while I started writing this, the man had competition from another man and today as I am about to complete, he’s standing alone with his little things of joy [happy things] as the balloons speak his words. . . . 

will add the pics sometime later. . . . :)