May 31, 2011

games people play

Im sure all of us have played this game.
Those from my generation definitely must have, as kids.
Thinking about it, we as grownups still play it nowadays--just that the rules have slightly changed.

Back then, it was all about throwing the dice..
Nowadays, its more about who gets to throw it...

Back then, if the dice rolled out a six, it meant we got an extra go at it...
Nowadays, there are just no second chances...

Back then, the snakes hailed at one stationary spot which we prayed fervently to avoid...
Nowadays, the 'snakes' make it a point to follow you wherever you are going...

Back then, a little cheating was allowed with friends, just to get ahead...
Nowadays, there are no friends----just opponents competing with each other at stab-back & break-neck speed...

Back then, it was all in the spirit of the game...
Nowadays, its all about war cry for victory...

Back then, two people could climb the same ladder and reach the same spot...
Nowadays, you get to climb each rung only after you push someone down as there is only room for one at the top...

Back then, it was a game called 'snakes & ladders'...
Nowadays, its called 'life'!!!

May 30, 2011

keep the distance!!

There is a painting on a distant wall..

I stare at it long enough and then wonder what details the artist has tried to capture in it.

I go closer to appreciate those details..closer...more closer...

and then there comes a point where everything appears a blur.

but the dreamer in me, who is much too intrigued by then, ignores the haze and keeps going closer trying to build up the clarity believing what she perhaps 'wants' to believe.
until slowly and surely, i start seeing a pattern in the blur...a pattern so beautiful that even the artist cannot have had imagined...a pattern which probably is not even meant to exist.

Dazzled by my own imagination, i continue staring at it, appreciating its beauty more with my heart than with my eyes...until..someone standing at a distance comes up to me and sniggers.

That is when i get angry, dare he ridicule me---he who is too blind to see this beautiful pattern!

It is only when i am held by the hand and taken back to where i once stood, that i manage to understand the truth of the situation.

It is only eons of reflective contemplation later, that i realise that viewing the picture from a distance always helps see a clearer image...the picture as it actually is...that perhaps the painting isn't as rosy afterall...

...and that probably it never was!!

Sometimes i forget to keep the distance--atleast until life in its own little weird way, reminds me of it..
and I guess im thankful.....for these careful reminders & timely realisations!!

May 26, 2011

cryptic thoughts #29

In the book of life, we should all have chapters with unsure beginnings and strong endings...the former opens up scope for new possibilities and the latter, proves that it was worth all the 'growing up' in the process!

May 24, 2011

on KJO & love...

somewhere in 1998...

"pyaar dosti hai...agar woh meri sabse acchi dost nahi ban sakti, toh main usse kabhi pyaar kar hi nahi sakta..kyunki dosti bina toh pyaar hota hi nahi"
("love is friendship..if she cannot be my best friend, i can never fall in love with her..because without friendship, love does not exist")

...and somewhere in 2006
coming from the same film maker and the same actor...

"kabhi kabhi dosti mohabbat ki jagah le leti hai aur phir mohabbat ke liye jagah hi nahi rehti"
("sometimes, friebdship takes the place of love and then there is no space left for love")

It makes me wonder what changed karan johars perspective on "LOVE" over this period of eight years...
i guess people mature with time.they learn..they change..they grow up...

i guess he did too...

all i have to say to him is that----
"itna waqt nahi le sakte" :)


so, which of the two do you believe in??

May 22, 2011

a not-so-regular update

"Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when they had made camp that day.

“Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.”

“But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, when I’m thinking about her.”

“Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it has to say.”

“My heart is a traitor,” the boy said to the alchemist, when they had paused to rest the horses. “It doesn’t want me to go on.”

“That makes sense. Naturally it’s afraid that, in pursuing your dream, you might lose everything you’ve won.”

“Well, then, why should I listen to my heart?”

“Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. Even if you pretend not to have heard what it tells you, it will always be there inside you, repeating to you what you’re thinking about life and about the world.”

"You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?”

“Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them.

“My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.”

“Every second of the search is an encounter with God,” the boy told his heart.

“Everyone on earth has a treasure that awaits him,” his heart said. “We, people’s hearts, seldom say much about those treasures, because people no longer want to go in search of them. We speak of them only to children. Later, we simply let life proceed, in its own direction, toward its own fate. But, unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for them—the path to their destinies, and to happiness. Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the world turns out indeed, to be threatening place.

“So, we, their hearts, speak more and more softly. We never stop speaking out, but we begin to hope that our words won’t be heard: we don’t want people to suffer because they don’t follow their hearts.”

"Why don't people's hearts tell them to continue to follow their dreams?" the boy asked the alchemist.

"Because that's what makes a heart suffer most, and hearts don't like to suffer."

From then on, the boy understood his heart. He asked it, please, never to stop speaking to him. He asked that, when he wandered far from his dreams, his heart press him and sound the alarm. The boy swore that, every time he heard the alarm, he would heed its message.

That night, he told all of this to the alchemist. And the alchemist understood that the boy's heart had returned to the Soul of the World.

"So, what should I do now?" the boy asked. Continue in the direction of the Pyramids," said the alchemist. "And continue to pay heed to the omens. Your heart is still capable of showing you where the treasure is."

The above excerpt is from 'The Alchemist'----one of my all time favorites.

Yesterday for a brief moment, i listened to the heart and ignored the mind.
Its a different thing altogether though that the mind was almost in a non-functional state at that time and my heart took full advantage of the situation and had its way.
Eighteen hours later, a drowsy semi conscious mind is typing in this post, still not totally aware of what has really happened.

and the heart waits patiently...a little nervous, wondering how long it will be before the mind goes into its usual 'i told you so' mode.

...keeping my fingers life moves on...

May 08, 2011

flawed perfection

I watched him as he lay out his mat & carefully placed all the porcelain dolls one after another.
They were dressed up in pretty floral dresses made of angulated features which gave them a clear distinguished look, a small plastic umbrella over their head---they were perfect!!
Exquisite marvels of a gifted sculptor.
I watched him as he carefully placed them row after row.

"aapne banaye hai?"
(you made these?) i asked..
He nodded, flashing me a proud smile.
I couldn't help admire his talent the precision with which he created those magical forms--all exactly the same, as if a thousand porcelain clones of the same 'flawless' gene.

The perfection seemed so undiscriminating..
Each told me a story...a story of precision..of accuracy...of flawlessness.
a story of how they were created with the same amount of time, concentration, attention and care.

I went upto the man selling them to take a closer look and asked him if he had anything different.
He apologised saying they were all the same--he did not know to make then any different.
"dus saal ho gaye madamji, yahi bana raha hoon..har saal aata hoon yahan inhe bechne..yahan jo sale lagta hai na, woh sahab khareedte hai wholesale mein"
(its been 10 years madamji, that im making these..the gentleman who conducts this sale here buys it from me wholesale), he said pointing to the tents, which were half ready for the upcoming event.

"kuch doosra try kyon nahi karte?"
(why dont you try something different?), i asked intrigued at his monotony.

"darta hoon madamji, agar galti ho gayi, toh saari mehnat bekaar chali jayegi..jawab dena padta hain sale wale saahab ko"
(im afraid madamji..if i make a mistake, all my efforts would go to waste..i am answerable to the gentleman conducting the sale)

and then he mumbled wistfully, "khuda thode na hoon, ke jo chaha, jaisa chaha bina soche samjhe banau aur koi poochne wala na ho"
(im not god..who creates without thinking as per his wishes and doesn't have to be answerable to anyone

Stumped by his almost incoherent mumblings, i stood there staring at those lovely images this man had created.
It was only when he proceeded to stand up that my eyes fell upon the pair of crutches that were lying under the mat, almost half hidden from view..asif shying away from the audience which adorned its 'superior' friends (the porcelain dolls lying atop the mat) with compliments.

The alarm on my face must have been evident for he looked up at me and smiled "polio" he said, "bhagwanji ne shayad galti kar li"
(polio...God, perhaps made a mistake)

It was asif life had suddenly turned a hazy blur as i stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.
Here was a man who had mastered the art of creating perfection..and was so much in love with it that he was too afraid to try something else.
and then there is HIM who for some reason, not known to man, creates flaws in each one of us in some form or the other.

Is it because HE is answerable to no one?
or was he tired of the monotony and so created a few deliberate flaws in each of us, to see how we deal with it?
Would we value 'perfection' had it been monotonous?
Are our 'imperfections' just a test to measure our strength..just a challenge to test our courage?
and then again, who decides the intensity of the flaws and on what basis are they distributed?
Theory of 'randomness' or theory of 'rationalisation'---which one would you choose?

I left the spot with a weird kinda heaviness in my heart...a heaviness that told me, that soon enough, the memory of those perfect images would fade from my mind but the words of that flawless soul...those would remain with me forever!!!

May 06, 2011

cryptic thoughts #28

There is this funny thing about 'change'----where not needed, it feels inevitable...and where needed, it seems impossible!!!

May 03, 2011


Lets change the record...
Lets dance to the music...

We are not the same anymore...

Every choice we make, every decision we take makes us little more of a new person---someone we were perhaps, always meant to be.

Lets open the curtains...
Lets greet the morning sun...

The moving van is outside the door...

It has been waiting since a long time--We ought not to cause it delay anymore.

Lets pick up these boxes...
Lets bid the memories goodbye...

its time to leave for separate worlds...

The road long taken, is better not looked back upon---it was just another milestone we crossed.

...and more often than not, we hardly define our 'choices'...rather, its our choices that define 'us' instead!!! :)