I am missing home. I was so excited about the holidays. And now it's all gone. I have to join my internship almost at a week's notice after my exams and I dunno where will I stay for one month as the hostel will remain closed till July.Or I'll have to pay a lot more to stay here for one month, that too alone in this whole building.And plus the whole project related research I have to do before I join there, which is not possible in Indore, cos obviously I have not subscribed any international science journal at home! So I won't be home in June.Which is the celebration month at home.My sister and my dad will be home after a long long time.It's like there are no summer holidays this time. I just realised how important summer holidays are in our life. We have been conditioned to the concept of summer holidays since we're nursery kids. From then till college we enjoy summer holidays. They are a collection of happy memories that we cherish forever.All cycling races, all the twilight games, hide and seek, mangoes and mango shakes, ice-creams for dessert at dinner, a house full of relatives, the sound of an old cooler in my ear - it's all in the summer.
But this time I will miss the various cake cuttings and gift sessions that go on in June as there are so many birthdays and anniversaries coming up. I will miss seeing my dad collecting all the gift wrapping papers for future re-use. I will miss posing for the numerous photos we take while sitting in the drawing room opening the gifts. I will miss evening walks with my dad. I will miss eating south Indian food too many times just because my sister likes it. I will miss wearing my sister's clothes.I will miss being asked 'which vegetable to cook' by my mum. I will miss taking as afternoon nap in my grandparent's room (their is AC is really effective), I will also miss hugging my motu dadi while sleeping near her.I will miss watching lazily the afternoon movies that come on tv.I will miss watching my grandfather eat mangoes. I will miss the shiny smile on his face when he brings fruits for us from the market.I will miss those times when we would play dumb charads at the night when there are electricity cuts. I will miss fighting with my sister and then placating her.I will miss the sound of utensils that comes constantly from the kitchen while my mum and grandmum are cooking and the delicious smell of food that follows it. I will miss the sound of tv serials that comes from all the near by houses when I go for a night walk with my family. I will also miss finding ways to meet aniket. And hiding myself in a blanket to talk on the phone for the whole night while sleeping beside my mum.I will miss making a resolution at night to wake up early the next day for a morning walk and then eventually wake up at 10 am.
Soon this cycle of summer holidays will end.I will enter the cycle of home-office-home-sunday in the following years. The summer time will just be another season.
Dil to bachcha hai [The heart is a spontaneous entity, unconquered by reason]
Aisi uljhi nazar unse hathti nahi, [The mind is so distracted with thoughts of her]
Daat se reshmi door kathti nahi. [I have lost the skill of opening your silken blouse
strings with my teeth]
Umra kabki baras ke safaed ho gayi, [Long gone is my erectile prowess]
Kari badri javani ki chathti nahi, [But the eroticism is in my mind, not in my
decrepit body]
[This is a sequence describing self-gratification]
Walla ye dhadhkan, [The heart beat is rising, the climax is near]
Badne lagi hai,
Chehre ke rangat, [I am pale, my blood is being rushed to where I want it]
Udne lagi hai.
Daar lagta hai tanha sone mein ji [Sleeping alone makes me want to test my virility, and I'm afraid I'll fail]
Dil to bachcha hai ji; [I know I act immaturely in front of you, please forgive me]
Raaa, rara raaa, aa
Raaa, rara, raaa, aa
Kisko pata tha, pehlu mein rakkha, [I thought I knew myself]
Dil aisa paaji bhi hoga. [But the scoundrel I am, I betrayed myself]
Hum to hamesha, samjhte the koi,
Ham jaisa haji he hoga. [I thought that the life of the cloth, would rid my lust for you]
Haey Zor kare, kitna shor kare,
Bevajah baton pe, aiiwen gaur kare, [on thoughts that should have no sensible existense in me]
Dil sa koi, kaminaa nahi... [You are to blame, you create another 'I', who fights with me and overpowers my rationale]
koi to roke, koi to toke, [Stop this alchemy, kill your lies]
Is umra mein ab, khaoge dhoke, [I know I won't be able to satisfy you anymore]
Daar lagta hai Ishq karne mein ji [I am impotent - I cannot even love myself, how can I love you?]
Dil to bachcha hai ji,
Dil to bachcha hai ji, [I laugh, for I am not ashamed]
Thoda kaccha hai ji. [The memories of a forlorn youth are still raw in me]
Haaan, Dil to bachcha hai ji. [Still I dream of completing you, for the heart is a happy kid, unfamiliar with the truth]
Aisi udaasi, baithi hai dil pe, [I know you'll be laughing behind my back]
Haasne se ghabra rahein hain, [When I try to hide my incompetence behind cheerful spontaneity and promises of performance of youth]
Saari jaawani, katra ke kaati, [I stayed a virgin, all my life]
Piri mein takra gayein hain. [When I meet you now, you tell me you have experienced love with other men]
Dil dhadakta hai to, [I let my blood boil, to aid my arousal]
Aise lagta hai vo,
Aa raha hai yahin,
Dekhta he na ho.
Prem ke maare, [The final blow has been delivered, and I am emotionally castrated]
Katar re, [My sword hangs limp, from my groin]
Tauba ye lamhe, [These extreme moments with you]
Kathte nahin kyon, [are so humiliating that they never pass away]
Ankhon se meri, [But I do not want them to leave my eyes]
Hatthe nahi kyon, [Because they remind me of you]
Dar lagta hai khud se kehne mein ji, [How do i confess to myself that I have lost?]
Dil to bachcha hai ji,
Dil to bachcha hai ji, [How will this poor, poor heart endure my loss]
Thoda kaccha hai ji, [He is still young, basking in the glory of romantic victory]
Haaan, Dil to bachcha hai ji [I love my heart, more than I can ever love you]
Dil to bachcha hai ji [For What is my heart? Nothing more than an altered vision of you]
Come back to me love, come back to my young, stubborn heart.
More apartments but less houses
More roads but less pathways
They beg, but their eyes do not plead, they mock your conscience
Its not mercy here Mr! It’s business.
A poor old woman here and there to make you guilty for the coffee you just had.
You carry coins in your wallet but nothing to change a life.
They call it the dream city. Where dreams are cold.
They disappear in the noises of cars honking and people running.
More crowd but less people
Strangers are strangers, they remain strangers
In your land you knew strangers even.
Evenings come and go before you decide it was a lovely evening
More cafes, more restaurants, more night outs
But less conversations, less warmth, less feelings
Feed yourself on delicacies, but there’s no dinner to remember.
don’t smile
don’t walk too slow
don’t stop to look at the lovely tree
don’t say you don’t know
don’t thank
don’t wait for no-one
don’t be the first one
don’t help
your land was your blanket
now you are without it.
It was a nice, windy evening. The sky looked more a shade of peach than blue. I was sitting in the balcony of my small apartment. I could see vehicles, their dim lights looking like small shining dots on the grey road. The sun had set although it wasn’t that dark. Men and women returned from work, carrying expressions of relief of finally being able to go home after a long day. Noises of cars honking, engines roaring, hawkers shouting filled the surroundings. The little snack-shops were beginning to crowd, as hungry travelers rushed in to bite a vada pao or two. Bells were ringing somewhere. Orange street lights had started to glow. Everything and everyone was moving. I could see a couple or two walking hand in hand. Mothers were taking their children to the market, the children walking briskly behind their mothers to catch up. Some were taking their children to tuitions, pulling them by their hands taking care they do not fall or run. It reminded me of my childhood, of how I loved going to the nearby market with her and how I almost had to run to catch up with her, holding her saree for support from time to time. Every action around me had significance. It was an emotion in itself. As though god was serenely doing its work of making lives move ahead. Everything was abuzz with movement and sound and yet I could find a strange peace in the atmosphere. The vibrations of the roaring vehicles seemed comforting. Everything was moving and yet it was still, as though time could be stopped and the moment could be felt, as though motion was stillness. Like you could feel life inside you and outside you. I could close my eyes and feel each and every sound. All these sounds were synchronising with the wind that was brushing past my face. I could sit forever in my balcony looking down and feel the breeze on my face. As though time could be stopped and the moment could be felt. The evening had wrapped me in its arms. I could feel life inside me and outside me.
My home is sick.
Please come and fix.
The phone cries,
The tele sobs,
And the bell curses.
Brooms fight,
The CDs prattle,
The cosmetics are vain,
And the mirror lies.
The gates veer wildly,
Scaring all the goodness,
that comes from outside.
My dog moans,
And my turtle gives a helpless shrug.
A wise soul he is.
The plants wailed,
Rooted when they were out,
Now twigs and spoils,
Sum up their memories.
The garden now forgotten,
Deserts the swing that now creaks,
Creak - an unliving sound,
because dead things don't speak.
The only peace in the eating chaos,
is found in my bottles,
That I nurture and love.
I caress their necks,
when I open them to quaff their contents,
And bathe them with my own hands,
for they bear cool liquids,
that I consume and relish.
Annoyed with a pout,
And confused with a squint,
I ask the Angel that keeps my home,
"Why, O Why? Why O scholarly and all knowing spirit,
do most things give me grief and fluster,
And only some give wanton joy,
When they all ought to keep a young boy safe,
and help him get through the whimsical adolescent years?"
The muddled genie reacts -
"Thou shalt reap what thou hast sown"
"And what thou hast doth to others, so shalt be doth upon thou"
I walk myself out of the conversation,
disheartened and addled.
Angry at hearing bad and meaningless sentences,
I rue Shakespeare's curst birth unto this planet.
Now I am doing it, I groan.
Then suddenly,
Out of the thinnest of thoughts,
I touch my growing belly,
And feel its softness and warmth.
The soothing, greasy expanse,
Gives me courage and clarity.
I wonder why my belly looks so nice?
Because I love it!
And I treat it with buttermilk and sausage galore!
I would never understand the adult world,
its cajoling and violent selfishness.
But I now know,
That there is a little boy in everything I see.
I then kiss the phone,
Smile at the tele,
And pet the tired bell.
I pat my dog,
Smell his funny nose.
I chat with the turtle,
and listen to his wise utterings.
I thank everything I have,
and everything that has me.
Love can be gifted,
only to be returned in a shinier ribbon,
But only when It is.
I open my mouth,
feel the gaps in my teeth,
and loudly welcome the tepid sunlight in my tongue .
I'm cheerful as a free worker bee,
I'm chirpy as a fuzzy cricket,
All the season tunes sing love for me,
And so, so happy is my song,
But come now everybody,
come on,
everybody now take a few hits,
Take a Few hits from the bong.
This post contains random stuff. You might even find that one sentence doesn't relate to another in a paragraph. Please don't mind. I want to be myself through out this post. I've come to Mumbai from Indore and my life has changed in certain ways. You know, I am not an intellectual, arty-farty person. But some times I totally feel that that I am not doing anything that comes under "things to do before you die stuff". Just read one of my cousins profile on a social networking website. Felt totally weird. Damn, I want to do so many things, want to be so many things. I want to do something that is totally anti-pop-culture. I am lazy. Sleeping.
Why am I so fascinated by such things? When I see a photograph of a person standing in Madrid beside a guitarist, or some guy standing in a village with a cow posing with a brightly clothed villager, or some guy climbing a mountain or any such random photograph, I totally want to be in that photo! I want to be that! It just seems that my life is distant from all this. As though this is all from another world. I know that I am not really into creative stuff and I cannot be like those alternatively clothed designers walking with a photography magazines in their hands. But I like seeing such people. All this fascinates me. But I would also mention that I cannot appreciate the subtly intended elitism hidden behind the display of intellect/knowledge/art by few people. I am a pharma person, working in a lab in the pharmacology department, experimenting on poor animals. I love my subject no doubt, but I want more to life.
Next thing, why am I attached to my roots so much? Whenever I think of happiness, I imagine myself in my grandmothers arms feeling her heavy bosom, hiding my face as well as my sorrows on her shoulder. I always look forward to playing some stupid game with my cousins in my drawing room. I imagine sitting on chair in the front lawn at my home just sipping tea and feeling the presence of my grand dad beside me. Celebration to me doesn't mean partying. Clubbing doesn't excite me much. I might enjoy it for a while. But I know I'd enjoy having a cup of coffee with a dear friend sitting on comfortable sofa more.
I cannot write stuff full of complex quotations and complex strings of words. I know I have written such an informal and such a crappy post unrelated to our blog. I want to be two things at a time. I am waiting to express my self! Even though I don't have the right words and I don't have that expertise on language. Why did I even type this post.
