November 27, 2012 § Leave a comment

I was brought to believe it was the rats – disease carrying beings that run through our well-defined systems and cause havoc and misery. Repulsion is a steady survivor. Even when removed from a stained memory of refuse, it remains. And yet, in the cove of a Neem tree carved in the luxury of time, all repugnance dissipated. Unknowing, we searched for new meaning and adapted afresh. The decay remained strongly rooted in the system, and yet, not all its propagators are as aware or wise as the rat when removed from a complying, filth-ridden race.


August 15, 2012 § 3 Comments

26th January 2012 (0952hrs)


The nation celebrates its becoming a Republic.

Among all the imagined borders that crowd our globe, this little village finds its own. Tracks of railing separate the old village from the new, with an intermediary crossing that presents an illusionary fluidity. The new village is more accessible from the main road, is a few meters closer to the nearest town and has its own load shedding pattern that differs from the old. The old village lies as it was for a decade during which politicians, educators, doctors and businessmen created new space for themselves. Some were from nearby towns looking to settle where land is cheaper and yet accessible by road. However, most were of the village, merely choosing to display their prosperity and power in a place slightly distanced from their own. With time, others from the old have moved into the new, but remain off the cemented roads to maintain a familiar drainage system. Even though the old and new are distinguished with freshly acquired notions of what each says about the other and themselves, for mostly political purposes, they remain as one.

Celebrations were held in the old village with all the old and new villagers participating. In the old village lies the public school and local government offices, both at which flags were hoisted. The hoisting of these flags was to conclude a procession through the village, led by the school band and children. Teachers and political leaders followed with most other villagers remaining spectators. The morning commenced with rounds of trained physical displays and the honouring of Gandhi and Ambedkar, whose frames sat garlanded on armed plastic chairs.

The time after this auspicious occasion was rigorously and solely focused on the upcoming elections. Rickshaws running on man or horsepower were mounted with speakers along with symbols honouring principles of various political parties and individuals. This time round, people’s votes ensure power at the village and district level. The only issue at hand that all the candidates seemed to agree on was a song which would for certain gain them votes. This made matters testing for the voting populace as all were individually fighting for unity.

Villagers soon began discussing our political affiliations on the basis of whom we most interacted with. Here, personal relations determine voting choices. Free alcohol on the day of the elections runs the risk of ruining all the hard worked at friendships, but most claim to stay loyal and continue reaping friendly benefits.

In the dusk of this political skyline, cows continue to be milked, families continue to arrange marriages, boys continue games of cricket and marbles while girls prepare meals for the house, and farmers continue to choose death over unyielding fields.

Soon, it was time to leave.

June 14, 2012 § 4 Comments

As distance grows and desires reassemble, daylight begins a waltz.

Tucked amidst the clouds, decades of books lie scattered, as soft jazz calls out to the rain. We search through more than ourselves as fading paper reminds us of journeys we’ve taken only with our minds. In memory of who we were and who we sought to be, we gather wet soil and mould another becoming day. To remember that our lives are but fleeting, and that tomorrow will bring more rain.

Tomorrow, there will be.

January 15, 2012 § 2 Comments

My upbringing delved into the possibility of words and worlds of scientific meaning. Logic lay in most corners of my knowledge and the solace it provided was a temporary comfort. Mystery novels; probably the primary culprits. Soon, the use of the mind to understand, to comprehend before creating became essential to thinking, wondering and questioning. Every life is a story, and every story can be mapped out, presented as a flow chart and clinically treated. Our stories are cluttered with logic. Cause-effect relations huddle round every corner waiting to be discovered and treated with an excited, scientific mind. We believe it unfailingly possible to comprehend the lives we choose. We believe we understand ourselves and forget that our existence is mere, and yet infinitely beyond our minds.

Slowly, foolishness creeps in with each morning, as the mind stirs and we roar into the sunrise and the eye of another mystery.

September 15, 2010 § Leave a comment

Today is an awfully hot day. After a rain and sleep filled night, I entered a train filled with individuals ready to seize the day and conquer a created survival mechanism. Around this time, compartments are generally filled with men waiting to get to work. The train is primarily another means to reach what some might consider a productive end. However, this compartment was filled with men who didn’t seem as concerned with beginnings and ends; they were here, they were living.

They were singing and appeared to be in blissful communion with each other. Some played instrument; others harmonised using their voices; the rest kept pace with the movement of the music and the train. Instead of accepting things they were condemned to live by, or giving priority to fighting for whatever they believe their rights to be, they chose to go beyond and conquer the day by using the individual power they possessed to recreate the atmosphere in the train and allow for empowering private spaces. They made space for themselves amidst a sphere they were forced to occupy to survive. They accepted their dependence on these means of surviving, but survival wasn’t as much of a priority as joy. They seemed to push the idea of freedom and become conquerors of their own beings, even if within pre-defined limits. They did not seem aware of the effect they appeared to have on the others in the compartment. Nobody was checking their watches, or the stations. Everybody seemed to be keeping time with these men, allowing for a feeling of communion and the creation of relaxed private spaces. In rediscovering their ability to conquer such spaces, their collective power could be used to challenge existing policies based on their own meaning systems.

I don’t remember when I last felt so human and alive in this city. Even though I was on my own, I felt one with everything around me.

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