Towards a new Sun

NB:- I hate poems and poets in general. Because most of the time, poetry is what people do when they feel lazy because prose requires sharper words, more number of words and more thought. Of course, some poems are an exception to the above and a class apart. This one below is not. 

Move aside.
Move aside, garlands, symbols, imagery and image-less.
To the side, beards and ashes.
To the side, rahu and ketu and shaitan.

And the old vultures encircling the bleeding carcass,
And the false red flags on the battlefield,
Burn.
They are here.

Destroying the gates, walls and the useless legends.
And stories that tell you what needs to be done.
Dusting the antique to see its worth
Wisdom, courage and humanity.

Hear them, descending down the mountains.
Each prisms of their past.
And yet lightly packed on their horses.
Each deciding the quantum they will bear.

Firm but light steps.  New rules.
Deep roots into a soil that sustains.
And yet winged to rise.
A lump of clay shaped by words.
Words that are blind.
Onwards.
To a new sun.

A stranger and his land.

So, today, I came back home after some time(The coming-back has become a rarity). I got out of the airport.

Random cab-driver: Taxi veno?
Me: Nahi.
Both of us: *pling*

So, I ended up replying in a language that I never used to like in my hometown to people who never really understood it either.

A little later, my dad comes to pick me up because of the luggage. On the way, I see that he is fumbling a bit with the driving. I duly inquire. "Mon, it's becoming a bit difficult to see in the dark." Age. Time slowly ticking away.

Time. These days, whenever I meet up with old friends, the topic always comes to how time has passed. It doesn't matter that we are all 20-somethings. Our faces wrinkle and asses elongate under the baggage of the experiences 20-somethings go through. Emotional disconnects. Flailing relationships. Career question-marks. An "Ayee Machaa..?" does not as easily bring back people as it used to do. Lost chances, love, success, opportunities.

People. A generation grows up. Little kids on sports bikes burning tarred roads under the hot sun. A far cry from cycles and muddy, dusty roads and shady trees. Succeeding generations coming to know what addiction is, one quantum of time before the previous one. No, it's not a criticism. To each generation, it's own.

The dilution of the left-liberal view of a society into a bunch of pseudo-leftists who create a heap of smoke and no fire, disruption and no solution. The creation of brand new hindutva, christitva and islamtva. Feeding a new generation into seeing only a quarter side of the coin. And the churning of bank officers, IT professionals, Yem-Bee-Ayes without rhyme and reason. Cliches.

 I pick up my old diaries, writings and thoughts and I feel like a stranger and a misfit in my own land. Like in the poem by Frost, where at the fork in the woods, my land took one way and I took another. And, neither one of us can decided which is the less threaded one.

Discontent. Pitch-black discontent.

At our greying society and lost ideals and 100 pavan gold at weddings.

And becoming a wanderer eating aloo parantha and pyaaz parantha, with no place to call one's own.

Of looking forward and back.

The three wheeled auto screeched through the newly and unevenly tarred narrow lanes, still slick with oil. It eventually halted where the oily modernity halted. A 6.5 cent plot of land, enclosed by a cement wall, with a mini-jungle inside. It was noon and two dishevelled individuals got out of the auto. A middle aged gentleman and a young kid. A trolley-bag followed.

"Why do you want to go to India, Kishore?"Anu sounded annoyed. 
"It's been some some time. I want to check the property, once in a while." He replied. 
"Why do you hang on to that small fragment of land? It's a small plot. And for that, you want to go every one year. I don't mind your trips but you are wasting a lot of money and time."
"Come on. It's Rahul's vacation as well. Let him see his extended family."
"Really now? You have never bothered to keep in touch with them, except for your uncle and you want him to see all of  them?"

"Ahm, Dad? Are we supposed to camp out here?"
"No, kiddo. Your great-uncle lives nearby. We'll be going there."
He took a look around. Three years had passed, since he last visited this plot. Things had already changed a lot. The lane had been re-tarred. New houses had come up and very few vacant plots were left in the area.

"Awesome. Now, we both get to go to the US of A. And, that too, jobs in the same city." Anu could hardly contain her excitement.
Kishore smiled. 
"You don't look too happy, Kis-o?"
"Nothing. You do know that I have a thing for memories. It breaks my heart to actually leave this place behind."
"I know." Anu came closer and gently kissed his forehead. "But, it's a necessity. You are lucky to have a supportive family. I need to be away from mine for some time."
"Yes. Yes. I know. And to add to it, you want to look towards the future and leave the past behind."Kishore winked.
"Haha. Yes. I do. There are a million things out there. Miles to go, no? Nostalgia can wait until we loose our teeth and wrinkle our faces."

"Daad, I am hungry."
"Whaat? You just ate like half an hour ago."
"I spent it all on that autorickshaw ride."
"Pinnaee."Kishore grinned as he waded through the weed that had grown around. He inspected and uprooted a plant. He had asked his cousin to plant some tapioca there. His cousin had took his words to heart. This one had been planted recently and the result was nothing short of spectacular. He suddenly heard some joyful shouts from across the neighbourhood. Rahul went and peered through the cracks in the wall. Kishore moved towards him.

"Haha. So you. To come here after, exactly 10 years."Anu remarked.
"Big attitude eh? Why did you tag along then?"
"Aah, Kis-o. Chekkane kandu veenu poyille. Pyaar, mohabatt and all that. What can I do? I have to tag along."
Anu shoved Kishore and ran. 
"Aha. Who exactly is the kid here?" Kishore shouted as he ran behind her, along the Rajpath strewn with dried leaves.
They had both studied at REC-Calicut. Today, it was called NIT-C. But, he somehow felt that  things hadn't changed much around there.

Colours were flying around. It took Kishore by surprise. Holi. That's one festival he did not expect to see, being celebrated with gusto in this neighbourhood. He wondered whether there were any North Indian families settled around here or whether India's heterogeneous cultures were seeping in and mixing together just like he, at the heights of his idealism, believed it would.
"What's happening, Dad?"Rahul asked. His big eyes widened at the sight of all the colours.
"They are playing Holi. It's an Indian festival. I'll tell you the story behind it later. You go play with them."
"But, my clothes?"
"I never liked your mom's selection anyway. Now, go. Shoo"
He gave a friendly wave to the other kids. They waved back.
Holi. His mom was a Gujarati while his dad was a quintessential Mallu. This meant that he usually celebrated more number of holidays than the average kid around in Trivandrum.

"And, so I fell in love with Trivandrum and your dad. "his mom finished the story for the umpteenth time. He did not mind the repetitions. He loved seeing the way her eyes sparkle as she recollected the bits and pieces. She was watering the anthuriums that she had planted in the plot. 
"You know. We bought this plot for you because you wanted to come back here one day."
"I know, Amma. You needn't have. I would have bought a plot of land myself later. There was no need for you to have bought it now. "
"Land prices will shoot up eventually. Maatramalla, it's something from your dad and me to you. We have always loved this place so much."

The land that his mom and dad had loved that much. He had been reading some of the Indian newspapers early morning in his flight to Trivandrum. Rapes. Hindutva. Jihad. Oppression. Poverty. It reminded him of Hirschmann's theory of voice or exit. People like Anu shunned the bad and the good memories and went away in search of a better future, never bothering to look at their painful or maybe uninteresting or even a happy past. He had a different perspective on that past versus future debate. He wasn't sure whether he was right. Sometimes, he stubbornly resisted change. He wondered why he came back. Maybe, it was because he was an optimist. He believed in voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rahul and the other kids running towards him with buckets. They were soaked in mud.

This land, where he found friends that lasted for a lifetime, where he fell head-over-heels in love and then ended up with a bitter heartbreak and then found love again in an old friend. This land, which made him a communist, with scant respect for oppressive traditions . Yet, this land, which made him fall for outdated and heart warming ideals. This land, that his dad and mom loved with all their hearts.

Rahul let out a yell and threw the mud at him. A small and high-pitched yell. The voice of a new generation, who should be given the choice to develop their individual stories in a land that they could call their own, despite its imperfections.

The mud ricocheted off the cement wall and splashed all over his polo t-shirt. He grinned, jumped over the wall and ran behind the kids who broke off in different directions.

Jimmikki Kammal - 3

# Do read the two previous posts in this series. Oh and how many times do I need to tell you? It's fiction, dei. :D

The sea brushed itself against the boulders and destroyed itself into a white spray fountain. The salty, water-laden winds made a mess of Raghu's hairs. He was sitting on top of one of those random boulders at Kovalam. The sun was dissolving in the sky, spreading itself into an orange haze.  The divorce procedure had been completed. He would get to see Nihal, once in a week, as per the court ruling. So, that was that. His idealism and her pragmatism had finally decided to quit after what seemed like a lifetime of struggle.

He did not exactly know whether Isha would marry again. She would probably do what was best for Nihal. And at that particular point of time, neither of them knew what that meant. A young couple clambered up the boulder that he was sitting on like bees attracted to each other and the honeyed horizon, gently buzzing into his thought processes without meaning to. His thoughts took a brief pause to survey them and then drifted onto relationships and solitude. There were so many questions that he had to answer so that he could move forward. And, there were others he were simply curious about.

For instance, now what? Indians tended to treat divorce as an anathema. Something to be done, when the relationship bordered on abusive or when the extra-marital quietly intruded. Theirs was simply dysfunctional. Of course, there might have been some guy somewhere. But, it was more often than not true that in case of relationships, a character can enter only when there is a vacant space. He wondered how that vacant space got created. Not that it helped, of course. But, his mind always wandered. This time though, he purposefully brought it back. Now, what? How do you move forward from a dysfunctional relationship? A court order would take care about the legalities. But, what about their psyche and their son's? Would he eventually fall for someone else again(Ooh. Anathema. Anathema)? That was something difficult for him to imagine. For one, he firmly believed that relationships took time to build. One of the many reasons why he never understood mechanical arranged Indian marriages, which was equivalent to playing Russian roulette. The secondary research never increased your probabilities enough.

Time might heal things. But, it did take someone genuinely out-of-the-world to replace Isha. He wondered whether he was suffering from a modified version of Stockholm syndrome. The last few months had been very difficult. Yet, looking back, everything just seemed to glow. But, he wondered whether it was just the fact that Isha was one of the very few girls who genuinely got him and now since that narrative was over, it was difficult for him to push himself back into the market. Not to mention the fact that at mid-30's, he was balding, happily obese and still tended to run around like a wild goose when it came to career. He smiled to himself. Too pessimistic. Of course, finding somebody again was not something easy. His psyche itself wouldn't allow him to make any active effort. However, he resolved not to let not to shut himself out. Love is not rocket science. If that one-in-a-million person or who he thought was somebody like that came again, he would give it a fair shot just like he did with Isha. Otherwise, solitude would be fine. Fuck society. He knew that no relationship of his could dissolve his bonds towards Isha and Nihal. He would always be there for them.

He took a cigarette out and lit it. The bright red spot gallantly stood and opposed the encroaching darkness which was munching on the orangy sky. The rhythmic sound of the waves made him think about solitude. He knew that there was a high probability that he would have to go solo. He would definitely have to make a bucket list. As Camus once said, one must imagine Sisyphus happy. True that, nothing had exactly gone his way. Most of his career dreams had crashed out pretty badly. His one source of solace, his marriage, had also miserably failed. By every definition of the society in which he lived, he was a loser. However, to become a bitter old man was unbecoming. He had to learn to shake off his fears and nightmares and launch himself back onto the ceaseless struggle to do what he believed was meaningful. He had to pursue happiness and meaning, even though it would have every chance of ending up meaningless. Because, even if the end was a failure, the journey would always be meaningful.

Looking back at his marriage, he knew that it was exactly that. Meaningful. Because even in the dying stages, there were those moments of extreme happiness and intimacy. Yes, he must imagine Sisyphus happy. He took the last drag, threw the butt onto the sea and got up. He wondered how the world look at a "failure" like him, philosophising about a brave new world and messing up his already his messy life. It was in these moments that he loved being human. These weird moments where he could back at life, the highs and lows, with a tinge of haloed nostalgia and be thankful.  He turned his head and saw the young couple going back to the nearby parking lot. Their intertwined footprints were etched on the sands. But, the incoming waves were slowly eroding the prints. A clean slate. Suddenly, the sea winds began to blow at full force, before dying out, to herald the arrival of night. His eyes, nose and lips grinned through his salty-moist spectacles.

11:57 PM

Time : 11:57 PM

Riyaz lit a cigarette. His office was on the top floor of that old, dark red highrise. And he was standing near the stairs to the terrace. It had been a long day for him. Almost the entire hierarchy of his superiors had had a screaming session with him, for a faulty production decision he had taken last week. It had resulted in the company losing a good deal of money. It was only due to his status as a star performer and the fact that this was the only mistake that he had ever committed that had enabled him to escape the hatchet. As the cigarette slowly fell off as ash, Riyaz thought about his job and childhood dream. It wasn't remotely related. He had always wanted to become an astronomer. Even as a kid, the thing that made him the happiest had been gazing at the stars and the constellations. One thought led to another and the cigarette reduced itself to a stub. He dropped it and stamped on it.  As he was about to go back to the office, he noticed that the terrace door was ajar.

Time : 11:57:30 PM

Rahul was in his bed. He was unable to sleep. The creaky fan and the ceiling paint which was about to peel off did not exactly soothe away his tensed thoughts. He had been out of a job for the past three months. The house owner had given him some leeway initially with respect to the rent because Rahul knew him well. But, he had prolonged it too much. And, the owner was getting impatient. He turned sideways. Suma was sleeping peacefully. She was the silver lining of his life. He took a deep breath. They had promised themselves not to have any kids till the situation stabilised. She had a small part-time job as a stenographer in a firm nearby. His thoughts went to the job interview that was scheduled for tomorrow. His old friend, Nair, would be in the interview panel. He envied him. They both passed out from the same local engineering college but he had managed to reach a high position within a short span of five years. Nair knew him well enough. He knew that Rahul had all the necessary skills required for the job and communication was his only problem. But, Rahul was sure about tomorrow as the job itself did not need much communication skills. Besides, Nair was there. Tomorrow, he would write a new chapter in his life.

Time : 11:57:45 PM

The car raced through the empty streets. Sanjay was driving at breakneck speeds. No. He was not exactly a rash driver. But, Jacob was lying injured in the backseat. Ranjith was also there at the back trying to talk to Jacob, gently encouraging him. It had been a really bad accident. The three of them had gone on a trip to the nearby beach. They had always loved the beach. It had been a reunion of sorts that day in the city they called home. It had been almost two years since they had gone their different ways. And as usual today, inspite of having a car, Jacob wanted to take his bike out. Even though, there were only three people. Sanjay clenched his jaw. He was not really accustomed to high speeds. There were not many cars on the road at this time of the hour. But, any unexpected diversions or incidents, could completely mess up his driving at this speed. It could lead to an even worse catastrophe. Sanjay took a glance at the back of the car. He blinked his eyes for a fraction of a second and pressed the accelerator. He would reach that familiar dark red landmark in around one and a half minute at this speed. A hundred meters beyond that was the hospital.

Time : 11:58:30 PM

Nair was sipping a Bloody Mary at his friend's party. The disco was filled with his people but he was sitting beside one of the tables in a thoughtful reverie. He and Anjali had another quarrel today. It was a minor one. But, the frequency of such quarrels had been increasing lately. He had a feeling that Anjali was not telling him something. It was true that he had been spending less time with her but it was not like she had any mush syndromes. She had always been a partial tomboy, plucky and beautiful. Enough so, to sweep a relatively no-nonsense person like him off his feet. He smiled. He would make up to her, he decided. He would have a frank talk with her tomorrow night. He sipped some more of the Bloody Mary.

Time : 11:59:15 PM

The cold, night wind gently lashed at Anjali's open hair. She looked at the view beneath her. The city was relatively silent that night. She closed her eyes. She could see Nair's face. A droplet of tear slowly ran down from her right eye down the entire length of her right cheeks. She slowly moved towards the building ledge. The ledge was a shade darker than the dark red paint, which enveloped the outside of that building, where the small boutique she managed was situated. She had no idea why she was doing it. It wasn't worth it. But, her mind was numb and her feet kept egging her on. She loved Nair, she was sure. He loved her as well. The thoughts which were consuming her should have never existed in the first place. Her feet almost reached the edge. A seemingly infinite bottom beckoned to her. She, standing at the highest point in the building, felt swayed. She did not even hear the blazing car horn, whose volume was slowly increasing.

Time : 11:59:20 PM, IST, Earth Time

In one corner of the cosmos, the thing some people called God, some others called Fortune and yet others called the Universe, smiled to itself. It never was omnipotent or omniscient or omnipresent as many in the cosmos believed. It was more like a gambler, who was able to roll a couple of dices here and there, do some dirty tricks, change a couple of digits in the many equations. However, the interesting thing was that it always gambled in a similar manner. When it rolled those dices, it rolled them keeping faith in a particular variable called the human spirit. It hadn't yet counted its win and losses. But, with the widest possible grin, it rolled the dices again and gambled for that resolute race called humans in that very highly random cosmic game. 

Crumpled Sexiness

"Crumpled Sexiness."

"Crumpled Sexiness?"

"Yeap. It's like this. The moment she wakes up from sleep and puts away the crumpled sheets, when her hair is messed up and eyes are barely open and look flushed and her face has that special sleepy tone to it, if she is at her sexiest then, that's the sort of girl I'll fall for. Of course, that is only when you are taking looks into consideration. There are the other stuff too."
"That just seems a bit too filmy. People look like shit when they wake up."
"Aah. Hmm. Maybe, I got the cause-effect relation wrong. I guess, if I look at her then and feel awed, I must have fallen for her hook, line and sinker. But, there is something to that face that she usually hesitates from showing to the rest of the world and yet doesn't give a damn about when she is with you."
"I do like the brutally honest opinion. Much better than the usual ones where guys keep trumpeting how they fell for the personality and yada yada. I mean that might be true in case of people who have been friends for long. But, bullcrap-ish otherwise.Waise, one more thing. Do tell me how you going to decide to who to pursue with that criteria for look?Are you going to peek into their bedrooms?"
"Aye. It wouldn't help in deciding. It's like a check. If you are in a relationship, you decide whether you are really in that relationship by deciding, whether you like them in their rawness and in their worst moods."

"But, I was asking how you decide who to pursue? Is it just testosterone?That fleeting second and you decide, she's the one. Or is there some rational process? Like a checklist?"
"Ey. Don't make it logical and un-romantic. There is no rational process. The falling-for is irrational. Always. That's why there are so many heartburns around. The getting-up is part is rational. You don't get to make a logical decision as to who to fall for. I guess you just wing it. You fall and get-up and make a routine out of it till you get your crumpled-sexiness."
"Hmm. Fine. Fine. But how should the first scene play out? I think the movie one's the best. I want something akin to that in real life. The girl walks in slowly. Her hair is flowing in the wind. He is leaning against a tree. He sees her and voila."
"No."

"No?"
"It should be more like you are doing some mundane task with a friend of yours and you look at her face. And then you remember every part of that friendship that has lasted for quite some time and then suddenly you see her differently. Voila."
"Whaaat? Why no love-at-first-sight?"
"Not rational."
"Oye. Stop contradicting yourself. You said it's never rational and now you are saying I have to know the person."
"Well, it's not. But it doesn't mean you should be stupid and go horny over random people on the road. And however much you know a person, it's still winging."
"Oho. And, what if you never find your crumpled sexiness?Or worse, the crumpled sexiness just doesn't feel the same about you?"
"Well, there is the Everest to climb. Then, there is bungee jumping in Switzerland. You can go on a a bike-ride to North-East India or skinny dip in Gokarna. You can write a novel. Go on a bike trip. Drink up with your friends and talk crazy-shit and do-crazier-shit. Or, not drink up and do the same."

"Cliched."
"Maybe."

"Arranged?"
"My foot. The trailer can never tell you whether the movie will be a hit."

"Come to think of it, bungee jumping does seem a better choice rather than all this jazz."
 Her friend grinned and winked. He then drew himself close to her and whispered.

"Maybe. Or, maybe not? Only one way to find out."

Vada, Sambhar and Kathor

This post has definitely been frustrating. It's been two weeks since I came here and I wanted to write something about IIM-R and Everest Hostel. Interesting stuff certainly happened. For instance, the fresher orientation programme, euphemistically titled "Personality Development Programme" was fun. And then I thought about all the inputs that I received before coming here.

"It's an MBA. There's really no difference between the seniors and juniors. You'll have people younger than you as your seniors and older ones as juniors. Everyone ain't everybody's best friend. There will be the small groups, of course. To each, his own."

" People are more placement oriented. They would want a certificate for each of their achievement so that it can be a bullet point in the CV."

"Work. Wild parties. Chics. Wild parties. Chics. Mostly in that ratio."

" Don't worry too much about wavelength. There will be always some idiot who'll think exactly like you."

When the rickety Haryana State Transport bus dropped me nearby the destination, I still hadn't decided on "Why MBA?". Those TIME people told me that it's a sacred thing to be pondered from within. Annoying.

So, here I was dumping IAS preparations (stability/security issues) for a while and taking up a PGDM/PGP course because, well, a job seemed mostly boring.

"Take an MBA. Granted you had a hell of a college life. But, an MBA will broaden your perspective a lot. Maybe, it'll help you decide."

" An IIM is an IIM. New or Old. Brand. But, an IAS is better than corporate life. "
(That one was by the typical Indian family relative from the socialistic era. Power over money.)

And I was slowly dragging my trolley to the too-large-MDU-campus. A temporary campus. Basically, you belong to a batch which would never see the permanent campus. As soon as people shift to the new campus, a sea change in the campus culture will take place. Your juniors will be able to leave marks, scrawling and graffiti on the campus which will last. Physically. And, metaphorically, in terms of what they leave behind. They'll be able to visit the place years later and be able to call it home. Where would you come to? MDU or the permanent campus?

A few days passed. And, I realised that the mess people don't know how to prepare a Vada. And the sambhar just about attempts to be that. Damn. All Machans and Akkas from the south have crestfallen looks.

"Think of it this way, you are given a blank slate. What you and your batch does within the course of two years, will define the institution for generations to come. "

The scorching sun.
The dust storms in summer which ruin your clothes as you put it out to dry.
Haryanvi. Hindi. National Language. Still, a mystery to people residing south of the Vindhyas.
"Bhaiyya, ek curtain dey do."
" Kya?"
"Curtain??"  (Points to shop window, makes random gestures)
"Carton?"
"Carton nahi. Curtain. Curtain."
"Kya chahiye bhai?"
"Arrey curtain." (more wild gestures)
"Ohhh jee. Purdah?"
"Pardah nahi. Curtain. Curtain." (And I think to myself. Why in the world does the guy think I need clothes worn by a Muslim woman?)

" And, we call ourselves Kathor."
"What's that?"
" Arrey, you flip Rohtak."
"I understood that. But, what is that?"
"Strength."

The sun's setting. And I am drinking tea from the steel glasses, sitting on the steps of Everest Hostel. People playing cricket, football and volleyball from centre, right and left.

Later that night, some of us go and have a couple of beers from outside MDU Campus. Statutory warning : Everything's strictly forbidden inside campus. It's goes against our cultural heritage. I rightly feel guilty about it. I look upto the skies and ask for repentance from our ancestors. And feel proud that everybody else inside the MDU campus religiously follow their duties and desist from any satanic(Ravanish/Duryodanish) temptations.

Class participation, the very next day. So many hands and legs up in the air including mine, even though I try to act like I am above the kindergarten effect, by only partially raising it. That's neither there nor here. Damn that one mark.

Powerpoint. Excel. As pointed out in Legal Aspects of Business, Microsoft is definitely breaking a lot of Competition Laws here. Those people actually created a degree called MBA so that there will always be a market for Powerpoint and Excel. Conspiracy of the highest order.

People. So many different ones. Stereotypical. Un-stereotypical. Anti-stereotypical. People you actually wanted to know better but started on a wrong foot with. People you started on a good note with and now you want to abhor like the plague. The only constant in a temporary space-time dimension. Radically different from you. Strangers? Friends?

As the marauders said " I solemnly swear I am upto no good". In a variable called life, two years of stability at an institution called IIM-Rohtak. Two years to feel pride in a tag called "Kathor". Two years to decide "Next is what?" Two years to create a bunch of memories, something called a batch spirit and then disappear back into anonymity. Cross that. Two years to create something that'll outlast us all and always shine in neon lighting, irrespective of the infrastructural shift.

Kathor. Strength.