I just can’t give it a name,

To these thoughts that I pen.

I guess sometimes its better

To leave them unsaid.

Parking Space

There are many ways in which your day at work can go wrong.. but I am sure that one of the most common thing that irks one is when you reach your office and find someone else’s vehicle in your parking space.. that’s such a sure shot way of irritating you and laying the stone for a bad day ahead… for the record…. It doesn’t irritate me.. at least not now… this set me thinking on the whole concept of one’s space… we become so possessive about the things that we own.. we like to be in the security of taking things for granted.. And we like sticking to the routine of a familiar life… like a regular restaurant and the same regular menu …

WHY?? How much difference does it really make….? how does it matter if someone else was sleeping on my bed. as long as its empty when I want to sleep… what difference does it make on where I eat and how I eat..? table manners and etiquette be damned…

When we talk about our space…. what is it does we really become possessive about…? its not just your room. Its the toilet.. its the shared system we use at work… its the public transport.. its the reason why companies which “ customize “ your systems sell more.. it’s the reason why holiday packages are customized ( jain food in Europe…!! ) and the regular comforts of a life that you are used to…

why is it difficult for people to let go of these creature comforts… are they really as important as they are portrayed to be… ?

space is abstract and endless. its the mindset of the people that is limited…

and me.. am glad I have this space… and this is all I need.

Rainbow Beach

Whoever said Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away must have been looking at the Rainbow Beach in Dhanushkoti. I don’t know what its real name is, I don’t even think if it has a name, I don’t care if it’s got a name, but for me, it will always be the Rainbow Beach. It is one of the most beautiful beaches I have come across. The tall waves crashing into the white sand and the foam result in a beautiful kaleidoscope of hues that is truly a sight to behold.

The sea and the sky look like they are competing with each other to be the best shade of blue that can be. I never realised until then how much colours affect me, and the fact that blue is my favourite just added to the entire magical experience. How I wish I had a sail boat to tackle those waves!!!

As I stood there and stared at the fury of the sea as wave after wave of colours came toward me, I was glad that this beach had escaped the vulgar exploitation that afflicts some of the best beaches in India. There was not a single soul present there and this small temple with its incomprehensible inscriptions and flowers stood guard over the pristine wonder.

IF there was a place where the Rainbow truly ends, it must be this, and I want to return to it to find my pot of gold!

New Year

What would be a better way to begin the year than sitting on an upturned boat staring at a sea so black that one cannot differentiate between water and sky… The strong wind and the soft sand beneath the feet, nothing but thoughts for company, the comforting security that comes with being alone, and the occasional splash of water makes it the perfect moment. When you have the Air, Water, Earth, Fire and a Joint, everything looks like it did when it was just created…

And as the clock struck Twelve, the sea and the sky became distinguishable, with the skies turning a bright orange thanks to a naval fleet welcoming the year with powerful flares , I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but there at that moment…..

Karan's Space......................

It’s been a year….. since I blogged. A year of ups and downs... and in betweens… mostly in-betweens…. There have been so many changes... so many changes for the better... changes that have made me a better person… the people I have met... and more importantly... the people who I haven’t… its surprising how a person comes into your life… and in a few short conversations make you realize that life really is not worth the treatment that you mete it out… it really deserves more attention… and the person who you have been with.. Who you thought you will spend the rest of your life with.. Becomes a nobody... An insignificant memory… you learn one more emotion… something that surpasses love... or even friendship… I never thought gratitude can be an emotion... Infact... I thought gratitude is for the lame and week kneed invertebrates who want to live of other people, hence the urge to thank people for something that ideally they should be doing on their own… of course, one says thank you as an automatic reaction… but when you come to think of it… one never means it.. and that what I am talking about….

For… I have this urge... a need even... to thank all those people who have done something to make a difference to my life.. To have made me whatever I am... and I can go on about this bull shit… but the real people whom I would prolly love to give a hug and tell them how much they mean to me are prolly not even alive…

I would love to thank Ayn Rand for writing the books that she did and Rabindranath Tagore too... and Chuck Palahniuk …. I would love to thank David Bowie for his songs… especially for the Man Who sold the World…I would love to thank this one person who lives in the hills and who hates her current state in life, for making a difference to mine… I would love to thank the people who made the roads on which I can go for a long drive or a ride… without a care in the world, being with the one person who I have ignored the most all my life…. I love the fact that I can now be at peace with myself!! I am not scared of my thoughts anymore…. I am not being a mindless workaholic…. though the temptation to do it is soooo great…. I would love to thank myself for finally realizing that I am my best friend…

Course…. I am not perfect… and I am not going to satisfy myself saying that no body is... Roark was…. it’s sometimes easier to identify with a fictional character…. it’s so much easier to create a fictional character… to shower it with all the generosity of one’s ideals and thoughts and ambitions….. to live in a dream... Like in Vanilla Sky… no wonder virtual reality games are becoming so popular… I would love to thank all the people who are out there living their dream... for the simple reason that they are a beacon of hope... to people who dare to dream but don’t have the courage to pursue it... and for those who smother theirs in life’s mundane activities and who have stopped dreaming…

I love the fact that I can be at work this minute... And blog… and think about life… without a care in the world... On a Saturday… when most people have their week ends off… I love to work on weekends... when other people are not around... I don’t like most people... I don even try to… but the others… I search for them…. I like to be aware of their presence…

Trust me… I am not usually this optimistic… especially since the past few weeks… I have been more confused than ever before… but I am enjoying my solitude… and I am trying to do the stuff that I would like to do, I enjoy sleeping for longer hours… and enjoy the dreams that are associated with sleep.. I have vivid dreams... and I have decided to maintain a dream diary... I enjoy recollecting them... or trying to… the best movies that I have watched are when I am asleep... directed by me… with unknown people playing forgotten parts… I like not jumping out of bed to rush to work... hoping you wont get into trouble... knowing you wont... coz u have been incredibly lucky.. and you start taking that for granted…. one forgets that a good run never lasts for ever when its lasted soo long….

I had forgotten how much I love writing... when I stopped writing for myself... when I started catering to what other people wanted to read… I don’t remember the last time I let my thoughts flow... and not knowing how time flies.. I do remember how difficult it is to pen a five hundred word article... with absolutely no clue what to have in the beginning and in the end... ofcourse... anything in-between is mostly bull shit.. Always…!!! . and I am loving the feeling when I am writing this… and listening to this song life for rent … I feel like I am sitting near a window staring at the drizzle which bathes a beautiful garden…. with a hot cup of coffee….

I know I will have to go back…. to work... to home…. to drudgery... to studies… to things I don’t care about… but I know that I can always come back… to this space... which is my very own….

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A mother was killed, and so was a daughter and a sister.

Today I came across this news article which reported the murder of a 21 day old baby!!! Not surprisingly, it was a girl.apparently the father had brutally killed the girl to escape the cost of bringing up yet another girl child. The father claims to be innocent but all evidence shows otherwise. When will people of our country (for now India, not long if quota politics continue) realize that the female diety that they pray is the same as the one that they so mercilessly kill, abandon or just ignore. In a country where even a cow is given a status of a mother, the sister's place help high in the family, a son is still considered the torchbearer of one's generation. Its high time.. dat we as a nation step forward as one to prevent such kind of atrocities. I am sure the politics will be of no help. They are too busy bickering over quota and arms deals.

Numbed!!

I can’t feel anything. My senses have become numb. As I look in a daze around me, all I see is death, blood, pieces of flesh, parts of body. My senses are working overtime. I hear wails. Children are crying. Adults are screaming. The place is filled with Death. You can see Death. You can hear Death. You can SMELL death. You can feel death...

I am immobilized. I can’t lift a finger to help those around me. I hate myself for my helplessness. I can’t even imagine myself being in the place of the people whose images are on the TV. Their personal agony and moment of grief is on air on the thousands of news channels around the world for everyone to see.

I hear of news reports describing the place as gory... It is not gory. That hand belonged to someone’s son. That is their only way to reach out to the innocent dead. The torn clothes become a relic. The place does not stink of blood. You can smell blood. And this time it does not belong to the chicken or the goat that one relishes.

Everybody will try to cash in on the blasts. News channels will generate record TRPs as people lap up the images of Death and terror. News websites will see record Page views as people read voraciously about the latest updates. Phone companies will hit an all time high as people call up to find out if their near and dear are safe. People will get something new to talk about.

Life will limp back to normalcy after the blasts. People will praise the Mumbaites for the resilience. Their ability to survive floods, riots and blasts within the span of one week. One more new term will be added to the everyday vocabulary – Terror Tuesday. This time it will not be relegated to the domain of stock markets!! One more date will be added to everyday vocabulary – 11/7.

I want to ask. I want to know. I guess nobody will ever tell me. WHY….????? Why did they do this? What kind of humans will have the heart to carry such an evil operation? When did humans become such demons?

What will I tell my mother when she tells me to come back home safely when I am leaving foe work? That I am at the mercy of terrorists? That she should refrain from praying to God for her family’s safety coz God is now just a deity?

What will I tell my sister when she leaves home? To be vary of the traffic? To look out for rapists? To look out for TERRORISTS? And I cannot do anything to protect her. I cannot do anything to protect anyone. So... What is it that I CAN do?? I really want to know!!!!

IF

A poem that I have had on my bedroom door since I was 12


[IF]

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling