Bangalore Nights.

Bangalore nights are special, especially since it's the representative of the pristine city , uncrowded and unpacked. What gives the feel of heaven more so is the cool climate of the night, the breeze blows gently against oneself and chills him. It's so special since you can drive on road , hassle free.

Tonight (Sunday ) was one such beautiful night. Moonlit streets, cold breeze swaying you on its bosoms, and silence of a lazy road with a gusty motor racing on it. Trees on sidewalks had their silhouettes drawn up with vivid starkness. The way ahead seems to be approaching you faster than you would want it to. But, except my motor, none are in hurry. The entire panorama had almost dissolved itself in the moonlight and gentle wind caresses the tarred way ahead .

An inexorable Bihar.

Imagine a civilized society. A society where people lived fearlessly, citizens pursued happiness and had access to the means to that purpose. Pride in tradition coexisted seamlessly with modernistic values. Human life drew respect and had significant value. Wouldn't that be an ideal definition of a political state? It's hard to say if India stands up to that ideal, but certainly Bihar is an antithesis. A perfect contrast, rather.

Her Departure - V

When she woke up, it was almost daybreak. She was tired, but the sleep had helped invigorate her a bit. The baby was still sleeping by her side. She felt its breath on her fingers and sighed. She looked around for him in a hazy glance, and then laid back on bed once again.

4th Idiot.

Obviously, that's what you and I are feeling. Three were there , in the movie, and fourth who else but us. And it works in general because many of us didn't choose our path of our own volition , but were made to choose, by peer pressure, parent pressure and finally sheer luck. And sadly there wasn't any Aamir Khan in his philosophic avatar to open our eyes. To make us nod in acquiescence and guilt, when he says, "Excel in what you do and success will eventually follow". Sadly, I could never say that to my surroundings,which have gone by, which impressed on me the need to immerse in books , to excel with great marks, to be number 1 in studies. Oh ! Aamir where were you!

Dilemaa - IV

And then it vanished, just like those ripples last night,as if it never had been there. He realized suddenly what he had been doing since last night. He was inebriated with his own ideals, and perhaps in his own fit of realization he had overwrought himself. It wasn't strange for him to wallow in this dialectic with himself, but yesterday , he had given up. He gave up all that he had created, all that he had clung to, all that he had borne till then.

Moving ahead - III

The city precinct wasn’t too far and after walking a few miles, he was out of the city. Rain had stopped altogether now, paving way for an imminent, clear sunrise. Despite of all that he had been through, he wasn’t tired. Yet, the quietude around him, made him feel sick. Solitude is bliss, but loneliness is wearied. With divided mind he wished that he met someone around. Yet, not a soul appeared to be present, till the distance he could see.

Between Them - II

"You are right on both account. Providence hath had it ensured that I do not belong to the streets, and nor does the child lying here, has been given birth by me. But do you really need to know the other crass details? So long as we are similar , social standing and professional stature shouldn't matter. What transpires between us, and what originates from us is what we need." Saying that she slipped onto the bed, by the side of the baby.

He & She - I

"If there is any chance of doing it, its now. Come ! Take a jump! This will be the last jump you will ever need." He stirred. Squirmed. Gave a ponderous look around. And the laid back. How could he? No! No! Its just not so. Its not right. I am out of my mind right now! Gimme some time, to get back normal. Fantasy shall not override reality. Oh! but I cannot, I can't think straight, damage is irreparably done. But I still hesitate to take the plunge. Oh! all the pain, fear , pangs of separation. I cannot bear it all, my conscience it too weak for that. Let me try to be sedate. To sleep. To pass this time away, this wretched time, this pernicious time, this time which has stolen my sense of earthiness. Oh no! I know, there is no time. Time is just a frame in my mind. But don't embarrass me of my own idea. Its only an idea, its not me. I am different. I am wretched, I am weak , I am human. Oh no! I know, Human is all, he is power, he is creator and destroyer, he is wretched, but not without ideas. Even , if all of humanity were to stand up, right in front of me and grovel , to give myself up , I wont, yet I for myself, am so ready to give up, because I am losing to my own self. Man is power, but he is powerlessness to himself. Power to itself is not power. Its nothing. I am nothing. Oh no! what am I talking! Its all nonsense, I am a nonsense.

Crime and Punishment

Fyodor Dyostovesky , in his book, has so deftly posited the contrasting ideals that the reader, as Raskolnikov aka Rodya, keeps wondering which side is he on. It moves on like a delirium , not only for the characters but also for the reader. In the ravings and introspection of Raskolnikov reader loses himself. And yet, it never becomes predictable, and always keeps the reader guessing. Besides the ideological and psychological standpoint, the book fares well as a masterful detective novel. The language is rich and sumptuous. After reading the very first page, I knew, this is the kind of book one would love to read.

In an Illusion.

The story of life isn't life in the end, its a story. In describing a story what points do you put in as relevant and elucidate ?Out of the innumerable incidents , born out of desperate moments , desperate to make them momentous, a writer gleans the few which would serve the purpose of a story, one's which would generate interest and intrigue. They will either portray a simplicity, a beauty, an intricacy or something worth contributing to the story.

Mythical Anxiety

Anxiousness and trouble are both a myth. They emerge from our conception of future, based on past patterns, and from a restricted sense of self. But, when the time passes we wonder , what was it we were worried about. In a sense, this seems to me to be a cycle of life. Even though, I very well understand that what I would worry about would not lead to the same things, I do worry. Its like a routine. Worry first and then feel relived later that you are no longer worried and the in some time pave way for another worry.

Swadesh - exemplified in Bihar.

I liked Swades, the movie. Reason being, the simplicity with which the movie was portrayed. It touched everyone's naive heart. Most of my friends jeered at me for romanticizing such idea, for the naive simplicity that film portrayed and for the foolish idea that an NRI could ever conceivably return to his/her native to generate electricity. I accept that I didn't disagree much with them then, yet I saw it from a different perspective.

Hope and Fear

Hope and fear are phantoms, that arise from the sense of narrowed self. When our self is understood to be as compassing the entire universe, the ghosts disappear .
But hope is what has kept the world moving , a bright morning's hope makes the night bearable , a cozy home's hope absorbs all the dullness of a day's work . How would a person face the world , if he doesn't hope for better! That better world is a myth, as serious political thinkers have realized , yet, it is as necessary as life itself. It is the mover of the life , the factor that motivates men to act. But let's take a look at the role of fear in our life . It hinders growth, demands submission and targets resignation . Fear is the antithesis of hope , a factor the inhibits men from acting.

Words and me.

I feel like throwing in trash all that I have said and written. In this very moment, I wish to destroy all that has been created and seek recess into unknown. At this juncture of the conflict between mind and without , I feel the limitation of thoughts ,mind and reasoning. How far can these take the situation of human cause and the vicissitudes of life? How far could a literary "Happy" be pretended to be an equivalent to one that is actually felt by humans? How far could a literary word elucidate or justify the human conditions? Aren't they all just limitations , trying to get as close and personal to the human condition, nevertheless, always inferior to what actually is.

Too much of Coincidence!

Coincidence. Serendipity. They are catchy words and equally felicitous are the circumstances accompanying them. But , once thought about, coincidence seems to be the most impossible thing. Mathematically, what is the probability of seeing the same stranger in a big city, say Bangalore ? 1/6,000,000 ~ 0. Yet, I bet I have seen same stranger more than once, many a time. I have even seen same auto- wallahs again and again. And if this is not enough proof, then how about this one.

Inconsistent Self

Inconsistent self. Every word that I write and think about, is susceptible to inconsistency. By being inconsistent I mean, being at variance with what I am and what I actually think I am. There is a considerable difference between these two. Our choices are rational and irrational, and due to the lack of further knowledge, we term anything as irrational , which doesn't come from careful thinking. Hence , our thinking and non-thinking nature guides most of our decisions ( not all, for I am not sure about that). Which one is our "self" ? That which is rational or that which is intuitive ? But the main question is not whether, what should be defined as our self, but , whether consistency is possible or desirable in that definition of self , which acts.

A story worth not telling - Part I

Water leaked through that opening, all night. Drops gleamed in moonlight and crashed on the floor into invisible splinters. Wind was howling outside. Knocking or rather beating on the walls. Despite of it, silence was too deep in me. I felt like those sounds were coming from oblivion, far away from me, yet, their presence was never out of my senses.
I was an outcast. I was sick. Diseased. And the virus lay in my mind.It refused what it found non-tenable. It chided what it found irrational. It smirked at the certitude of rightness. All of these were part of a crime. Thought crime.

India - a wayward polity.

Does India still hold the promise to individual liberty and life? Does it , as a state, still has the capacity to provide guarantee of life and sovereignty to its citizens? Answer seems to be mostly negative .

Entrepreneurs

Perhaps the biggest candy that the Capitalism offers is , that any enterprising person, in pursuit of his own self interest could , on the base of capital accumulated can create and utilize resources , thereby improving the standard of utilization of resources of society. This form of guarantee is offered by no other political economy/philosophy, and the persons they create are "Entrepreneurs".

Delhi 6 - A perspective

And I landed at Kashmiri gate ISBT. Climate being comparatively cooler in the early morning , I planned to take a stroll around. Very soon I was standing in front of LalQuila, which appeared more of a black quila, and the chain of history began flowing in. At this place, the fate of my country was chosen. At this place my country took birth. I wished to salute it, but eccentricity is mostly reserved for blogs and thus I dropped the idea. There were stream of visitors moving around that place, perhaps visiting the place for the first time in their life. I wondered, how many really understood the idea of nation state, or did I myself understand it? Philosophical indulgence in hot Delhi sun could be harmful for health,however, and thus I moved on.