Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.
-Bilbo Baggins from There & Back Again
I'm back :)
I am so glad I am not celebrating diwali in the city. For once I am away from the vulgarity and commercialization that seems to have grown around all of our festivals. For once I can have a calm, peaceful, pollution-free, noise-free diwali. Although I can hear the occasional fire cracker here, it does not have the urban feel to it.
Yay! :)
We went out for a peaceful post-dinner walk the other day, my colleague Shreekant; Zara, a Scottish anthropologist; Sunit, a Krishnamurthi reader and I. It was one of those impromptu things that turn out to be great because they haven’t been previously planned. So we walked about randomly along the dimly lit mud roads of Rishi valley recounting mad stories from our childhoods. There was a slight nip in the air and I was grinning for no particular reason. Because of the tree cover we couldn’t make out if the sky was clear or cloudy, until we came upon the school grounds which had a few lights along its periphery. These lights illuminated almost the entire ground except for one tiny patch where the light could not penetrate the dark--my window to infinity. Although I could see but a small patch of the night sky, for me, that night, that patch stretched on forever and even though I was very much on the ground, I could touch the distant stars.
I made two new friends at Rishi Valley- BBT and Old Alfred. Both BBT and old Al are long past their youth.
BBT is probably the oldest guy around needing support to stand, but he still stands tall in his last days, so much so that you can actually feel his pride even from a distance.
Old Al looks beautiful in his brown wrinkles. In his presence you feel calm and serene.
They both seem to have gathered wisdom that can only come with age.
Here are their pictures:
(Taken from the Sept 14th, 2009 issue of The NewYorker.)Gargi is a friend I know from college. She landed up with a job recently. So we decided to meet up on Sunday at Dadar and celebrate. But sadly, at the last minute everyone cancelled, except Gargi and me.
Well we didn’t complain much, for when two girls get together after a long time, boy can they talk! So for about 5 hours the gappas continued. We talked about many things, her new job, updates on our lives, updates on other people’s lives (read gossip). Later the talks took some serious turns and we both shared our doubts that bog us down. We sighed often and the conversation ebbed as both of us lost ourselves in our thoughts.
We strolled around Narali Baug, a relatively new garden developed on what was once the famous dadar beach. (Well, at least they didn’t build a mall there, thank god!). So there we were two 23 year olds sharing common childhood memories of making sand castles on the very ground we were walking on and loosing countless slippers while having a dip in the salty water, while the Bandra-Worli Sea link curved gracefully across the horizon. Even though I hate the sea-link, I must admit it made for a very beautiful sight that day. It was near sunset and the faint rays peeped through the rain clouds. Those rays fell on the buildings at Bandra Reclamation making them radiant gold. Suddenly, the distant rain clouds gave way and sheets of water fell through the sky. We could actually see the rain move from the sea to land towards Bandra Reclamation. It poured over the skyscrapers that were golden with the sunset.
Refreshing!
After all that serious talk, the rain, the sea and the sun conspired to lift our spirits!
Mumbai can offer beautiful sights sometimes. Pity I didn’t have a camera, could have been able to show you how beautiful the sight was.
There was once a girl and a boy.
They loved their friends,
and they loved their work.
Though both were busy living their lives,
they were lonely at some point.
One fine day without reason or cause,
they held each others’ hands.
Their lives went on just the same,
except for a tiny change.
Since now their hands were always held,
There was a relief they both felt.
And in that sea of their real lives,
they anchored with their hands,
enjoying the moment for a while.
The girl knows not for how long that moment did last
nor does the boy.
But one fine day
without a solid reason or cause,
he let go without much of a pause.
The girl tried to hold his hand again,
the boy did not refuse,
but his hands were cold,
this time,
they lacked that old warmth.
So the girl let go too,
knowing it was futile to,
renew that which had already sailed away.
In time she would sail again too,
But not before a tear or two
had been shed.
For the past few months it seemed the entire world was gathered on Facebook except me. Curiously I didn't feel left behind. "I already have a social networking site in the form of Orkut. Who needs one more?", I told myself. But a few days ago I realized I was the last to know that Devesh’s family was shifting to Cuff Parade. This news was huge and I was blissfully unaware of it. No one seemed to be updating their Orkut accounts. So finally I joined Facebook to keep track of my world.
A day after joining, I met the same people who were present on my Orkut account, doing pretty much the same things they have always been doing, writing to others the same kinda timepass stuff they have always been writing; having the same kind of profiles they have always had… living the same lives they have been living all along. Everything was the same; it was just packaged differently like for example, here they wrote on walls, not scrapbooks.
I think it has some connotations in evolutionary biology. We like to move. We get bored of the same old place, the same old habits. New surroundings help add that newness factor to our lives. Shifting from one place to another on the web could very well be a new form of mass migration for us humans. And notice that it is not a huge change, no paradigm shift, just a new location for the ‘Friends’ button, or a change in font colour. As I said most things remain the same, it’s just the packaging that gets a redo.
Facebook was in vogue in the U.S. and other Westerns countries a couple of years ago, but had not caught on in India. This recent mass migration of a number of my friends, their friends, and their friends of friends could also be an example of how memes work. Someone must have made a shift from having Orkut as their homepage to Facebook, or they may have fallen in love with someone not found on Orkut but having a frequently visited Facebook account. This tiny little change may have snowballed into mass migration. It’s possible, but I don’t think any of these musings of mine are provable.
What do you think?
This is a post about 2 blogs I read. I have never met the owners of these blogs in real life, and I may never meet them. But I know about their lives through their blogs.
There is the one by a Canadian girl. It’s called Honestly. She is about my age, has a boyfriend, is a devout Christian but loves science, especially biology. Funny how I stumbled onto her blog. I was searching for information on how to dissect squids. And she had a post on it, so her blog appeared on my google search results. It’s a very nice, personal blog with a lot of tiny details about her life, ranging from a tonsils operation to learning photography. There was nothing especially enlightening about anything she wrote, just her simple life, but maybe that’s why I liked her blog so much. It feels wonderful to read about the life of someone who lives at the other side of the world, whom I have never met. And even though I don’t know her personally, I still understand the simple pleasures she takes in looking at autumn leaves or her anxieties about scoring enough marks in her exams. I know that we are different when it comes to religion, since I am an atheist and she takes her religion very seriously, or that she has a boyfriend and I’m still single; but in a way she is so like me and I suppose we connect as only girls can. But i suppose the most important aspect of it all is that whatever she writes, she does so with her heart, what she truly feels, no lies, no show-offs. ‘Honestly’, could a blog have a title more apt?
Sadly, she has been silent for a long time now, I wonder why...
A case of me is a blog by a 20-something Indian woman. I have no clue what she does for a living. She was living in Bangalore for some time, but I think now she has shifted some place in Europe.
She writes so well! I love her blog especially for her poems. I come home after a long, tiring day through the traffic and noise, go online to do some pending task, and on google reader I get an occasional treat. She has posted a quiet little poem. I read, and re-read it and a quiet smile crosses my face.
I have relaxed.
The writer though has decided to shut down her blog. I don't know why. I won't try to change her mind through this post. I'm sure she has her solid reasons, well, at least I hope she does..
But yes, her work will be missed. I suppose I need to search for something else now, that will relax me at the end of a long tiring day.
This is the third consecutive year that they have visited the clump of trees right outside my window- this pair of orioles.
Orioles!
Flying around the branches, a flutter of bright gold and yellow, not just one, but a pair!
A pair, searching together for a home. A home to start a new family in a city where space happens to be a luxury even for little birds. And yet I imagined them setting forth on this seemingly daunting task with zeal, with a sense of adventure in their hearts, with the kind of excitement that grips you when you embark on a new journey. But at the same time this very zeal made them seem vulnerable. Vulnerable to all the big bad ugly crows out there, to the telephone wires and kite strings.
As I saw them wandering around the branches, a bunch of brightest yellows and black I couldn’t help but be thankful for how lucky I am. I had seen such birds only in wooded areas before and here they were, in my own backyard!
Eurasian Golden Orioles are found in many parts of the world. Those found in Europe are known to fly all the way to Africa in winter. I could not find out if the Indian versions are migrants or not. One website labeled them as Residents while some other site called them summer visitors. So I do not know where these little friends of mine go for the rest of the 8-9 months of the year.
I do not even know how and when I got attached to these little birds. I didn’t want any harm to come to them. Sometimes I even had wild urges to snatch them from those unsafe surroundings and keep them close to me, away from harm.
And as they flew out of sight every day in the morning I found myself praying. Praying for their safety. Praying that they should come back home when the sun sets. And come they did! As if on cue they arrived as the sun sank in the horizon, settled on some branches and cried out in their distinctive voices. And every single time I rushed to the window and clapped at their return. When it was dark, they flew out somewhere else. I imagined they had a nest on a nearby tree somewhere.
There came a time when I was not at home during evenings when they returned. So I had not been able to see them for a while. But one lucky day I was home and I heard their call. I rushed to the window, this time with my handy cam. The male flew away, but the female lingered. I followed her movements till she almost flew into a sparrow sitting on another branch.
“A sparrow? No, that’s not a sparrow, its too big for a sparrow,” I thought.
“And what is that tinge of yellow on its back and neck?”
And then realisation dawned on me- OH MY GOD!! They had a baby!!! They actually had a baby!!
I felt like a grandmother, as I jumped and clapped around. My dear Peelu and Peeli had a Peellum!
And so my Peelu, Peeli and Peellum go in search of food everyday, soon they will disperse, and Peellum will grow up and start a family of his/her own.
And I hope they come back next year, for yet another beginning!
I got drunk for the first time during the New Year's party. Well, I had been high before, on my birthday treat for instance, but it lasted for only a few minutes. I only had an uncontrolled fit of laughter at that time, that’s all. But this new year’s I was high for hours. Don’t really know what I did during that period, but I remember that I blabbered a lot, tried to dance but couldn’t because if I moved too much it hurt my head. Then my best friend and I moved aimlessly from room to room arm in arm and talked crap. At some point we ended up in the balcony where we slumped and cried. I don’t know why exactly I cried, but I think I saw her crying and I joined her. I sent some random sms-es to people wishing them a happy new year and telling them I was drunk. Then I received an sms from a good friend of mine. He happens to be my ex’s room mate. So I replied back wishing him a happy new year and telling him I was drunk and asking him how my ex is. After that I happily fell off to sleep.
Urrghhh why did I do that? Why did I have to send that sms? I felt amazingly stupid when I was back in my senses. We don't talk about my ex ususally, and I didn't feel good about inquiring about him out of the blue. And I hope I haven’t spoilt my friendship with my good friend.
I didn’t feel alright at all the next day. So I have realized getting drunk is not for me. It gives you this feeling of shallow, meaningless purposelessness the next morning which has just put me off the whole thing. I don’t want to be drunk again, not anytime soon anyway. I don’t regret doing it though, since being talli was one of those things for me that I wanted to do at least once in my life (that list also includes bungee jumping, paragliding among other things J ) . But now that I have done it, I’m not keen on doing it again.
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