An Ode to Sachin!!

Indian People wake up remembering your good name and ask for your blessings and they sing your glories.

Around your throne people of all religions come and give their love and anxiously wait to watch you playing Cricket.

Praise to the King for being the MasterBlaster, for leading his countrymen beyond misery.

Drowned in the deep ignorance and suffering, poverty-stricken, unconscious country, Waiting for every stroke from your bat and watching perfection.

In your greatest moments, the sleeping India has woken up. We bow down to your feet O'Sachin!!

The National Anthem revisited...dedicated to the one and only God of Cricket!!!

Thank you and Congratulations for 200* :)

Smelling Blood : The Beginning

He rushes in, eyes focussed on his aim, the plan looks much clearer and wind or no wind, something seems to be backing him up. There is a distinctive skip in his stride and his faculties seem to be co-ordinating much better. The body looks far from fatigued even after an endless day of concentrated effort. And one hears the familiar voice of Shaz, deriving a vicarious sense of purpose,"Kumble has smelled blood!!"

The "smelled blood" phrase had always impressed me somewhat. A predator on the prowl that had had an appetizer of sorts, and was now hungry for more. Nothing could distract him from his purpose any longer. Sheer determination and a no-nonsense attitude.

All true. But today, I realized this was not all. So far, I had been objective in my view of this "predator". I could observe its body language which gave all the hints of someone possessed. But I could never think from the perspective of this predator itself.

I had wondered, at a subconscious level, what "smelling blood" would mean to me? But I never encountered such a moment where I could sense that I had "smelled blood". I have been progressing on the path which Life and I have been charting out for me, with arguments, agreements and disagreements. I have felt motivated on a lot of occasions but it did not appear as "thrilling" as it was while watching Jumbo bowl the way he did.

I sensed that "thrill" today. It may have been a very small droplet but nonetheless, I could smell it. And the picture became much clearer. I can relate to the feeling. It's like an opportunity which opens up the entire field for you. You can hear your heart drumming excitedly, the oxygen levels are tremendously high and the sleep-deprived eyes don't want to take rest. The mind is still on the ground level but a part of it wanders places in the very same instant. You are thinking of ideas and possibilities but at the same time you know where your aim lies. Your mind is alert to all the equations that may play out and also the obstacles that lie ahead. But over and above this, you can see the horizon and you would do anything to reach there.

How is this feeling distinct from the usual feeling of motivation? I believe it is to do with the distant vision which is the differentiating factor. One may feel motivated in bursts of time, which are interrupted by occasional troughs. And the feeling has to be somewhere revived (lunch, tea or drinks). But when you have "smelled blood", you would not be over concerned about the occasional obstacles. And while there may be bad deliveries, close shaves and resistance offered, you would now know that it is you who is going to prevail. It is a beautiful feeling and I hope it keeps coming back to me.

Yes, this feeling, is not everlasting. The predator would feel hungry again, just as another match always awaited Jumbo. And there will always be an effort to "smell blood", to trigger off the sparks, to launch one into a higher orbit. And as long as the creature lives, there would be another day. And therein lies the lesson: every conquest is not a destination, it is a Beginning.

Sink It in, Not Sink in It

Drops of rain fall on his eyes...the Warrior wakes up. He has not been sleeping; he has been in a daze for quite a while. He was fighting a battle, he does not remember what happened last. He brings himself up on his feet and feels a lot of pain. The water soothes his pain but not for long. He looks around. A lot of dead bodies with blood splattered everywhere. But now pools of water have formed on the field and what he smells is a mixture of it all: blood, sweat and the earthy smell of the ground.

He does remember some noises coming from a distance : sounds of jubiliant people celebrating victory. Was victory achieved? By whom? Or was it just a dream?

He looks up and the droplets fall on his dry lips, renervating his spirit. He puts a foot forward and he can sense searing pain through his body. But he must find out. He walks slowly but steadily, his bare feet splashing the blood and water.

It is all so quiet. There is no one in sight. But his mind is not perturbed and he walks calmly, not apprehensive about what has happened. He comes to a halt at a familiar place. He looks around and then he sees the Tree. The Tree which gave him shade when he was tired of all the preparation for war, the Tree which protected him and which absorbed his sorrow and pain. 

He feels a sudden urge to walk towards it and sit under its shade. No, he does not want to shelter himself from the rain. He wants every bit of it and it does begins to rain harder, making it impossible for the tree to protect him. And he wonders,  is it really possible that things happen as desired by him. He sits under the tree, still dazed and knowing not what to think. And suddenly it dawns upon him that the battle had been won. 

He does not know how to react. And then suddenly, he starts laughing aloud. And this laughter is different: it comes right from the heart, from the same place where he felt pain pouring out when he had lost the previous battle. It is a victorious laughter: proud, a little arrogant, blissful and sarcastic. He wonders what makes him laugh like that but the very next moment, more pain pours out from the heart. He is weeping bitterly and he is reminded of the losses and sacrifices he has had to make to fight this battle. He wants to reach out and recover all he has lost and his soul cringes even more from this thought. And yet again, the same laughter re-emerges, this time, from the realization that nothing could be undone. And he looks up to the sky and laughs his heart out.

He gets up once again. Everything seems to be coming back. He reaches a small path where he used to pace back and forth, preparing and strategizing. He had spent hours walking here, trying to know himself better, understanding his want and desie and  plotting for the kill. "This would bring me victory; this, would salvage my pride", he used to think. 

And he walks again, this time slowly, enjoying every step, relishing his success, and then stopping and spreading his arms wide, looking up at the heavens, welcoming the rain and shouting back. He has won. He pumps his fists, he shouts for the world to hear. He calms down and starts walking back but his eyes still search for people, all people, his bretheren, his enemies, the common masses: he wants them to know. 

But suddenly, the thought dies. He keeps walking back, letting his feet immerse in pools of diluted blood. He walks back steadily. He feels stronger, more determined and relaxed. He reaches the spot where he lay. He stops to reflect, to absorb all he has experienced in the past few moments. And he looks up and sees his camp. He walks towards it, only to be back. 

The battle is indeed over, the War........has just begun........

Sweat It Out

It is a familiarly strange feeling. It is beginning to get hot and humid and I suddenly feel the sweat on my body. It has a distinct odour, which is not repulsive and of course not pleasant. But it has more to it than just good or bad smell. It takes me back to a familiar world. It reminds me of the agony, the anguish and the uneasiness, the tossing and turning at night in a tiny room, with insects hopping around in the dark, having cut through the defences of the mosquito net at the broken window.  I can now see glimpses of the streetlamp throuh the window, when I am woken up by a thirst, which I know would remain unquenched.....until morning arrived. I can also hear bottles crashing, people arguing and they tell me, while I lie wide awake in sleep, that Chaos prevails in this world, at all times.

But this flashback, strangely enough, soothes my mind and my thoughts. It brings relief in its own peculiar way. Along with the feeling of agony, I can sense pleasure, along with anguish, I can feel happiness and along with the uneasiness, I feel a kind of comfort which the cosiest of "bean bags" can never dream of providing me.

I ask myself why and unlike interview questions on college academics, I immediately get an answer. The answer is "Hope". I sleep with this sweat, not for taking rest at night, but for working harder the next day. I do not sleep to forget what has happened but I sleep to continue the journey I have set out on. I do not quench my thirst with water, because this thirst is only symbolic of  what I have set out to achieve and can only be quenched when my dream is realized.

"Hope" gives me comfort as I can picture myself lying on the green grass which grows on the pastures I wish to rest on, away from this chaotic world. It makes me feel happy because I can feel myself enjoying the Sun, staring at it without battering an eyelid. And it gives me pleasure as I know there are lots of pains I must take to reach my destination. And what is more pleasurable than pain?

But is it only sweating naturally which reminds and inspires me to keep going? Not really. In the comfort of air-conditioners and twenty-four hour internet services, I still do feel the urge to "sweat it out". And it is not just me, it is the human body, which wants to get rid of stagnation, which wants to inhale the freshness and rikindle the fire which enables it to forge its way ahead.

The obvious question: is it important to "sweat it out" (in both the literal and the figurative sense) to be able to succeed? I am no spiritual Guru but I am certainly of the opinion that human body, through its evolution, has retained certain characteristics and habits which govern its functioning. And one of these characteristics, in my opinion, is to be able to labour and to toil. Not only does it provide exercise to the muscles and fresh air for the lungs, it motivates an individual and instills positivity at the same time. So, be it a farmer toiling on the fields near the city of my birth, or be it a successful industrialist who runs marathons, they essentially belong to the same class, that of the primitive human and what makes them tick is "sweating it out".

Random Thoughts and Random Words

Hi Everyone,

It has been a long time since I wrote last. I did have a few topics in mind but I have been bounded time constraints. I felt I would not have done justice to the topics if I went ahead and wrote posts without imparting "Quality" into them. 

I wrote this prose-poem yesterday night and it is something which I had not planned. What is unique about it is that I typed it out in four to five minutes without thinking twice. Therefore, on one hand, where the poem(near to it) is crude and meandering, on the other hand, it represnts an uniterrupted flow of thought, right from the heart. It started with "Me", managed to touch "I" and came back again. But there was a point where I could not feel the difference between the two. As Robert M. Pirsig puts it, this indeed might have been a point where "Quality" in true sense was achieved, albeit, momentarily.

I have left almost all of the poem unedited and untouched. There of course, have been some tweaks, to make it representable. So, please do not mind the non-capitalized I's and missing punctuation marks. Feel the thought flow through the terrain of your mind and let me now how it felt.

Here goes......

I have a strange feeling...not low..not  high....slightly low but then high...and i think y??

Then i feel i shud talk to someone, talked to mom and talked to sis,

And u have been through enuf of all this.........

I think of people, try to recall names.....

Who would help me douse the flames.........

Flames of doubt, flames of hope

Flames of anger....with which i try to cope......

As soon as my mind reminds me of one..........

All this typing would be undone.....

my fingers think and my mind types......

and suddenly in this conundrum...

i lose all the rhythm....

I want complete silence in complete noise....

what do i want i know,  but dont know how to hold on

Hold on if i do what will it take me to....

Random thoughts and random words.....

suddenly they sound all rhyming to me....... 

Oh but what is rhyme....

its not in space..its not in time.....

I zoom out and its all coming back....

a moment of peace and the whip of reality cracks..

I look up and see vague thoughts....

My mind is still tied up in knots...........

Thinking Mumbai after 18 days

Portia: Good sentences and well pronounced.

Nerrissa: It would be better if they were followed.

Portia: If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. 

I avoided writing anything about 26/11 till now primarily because of two reasons .  I was too much involved in looking "inside" me. I also did not want to come up with a knee-jerk reaction. I wanted to gauge the "mood" by hearing, reading and listening. And I feel I was right, at least on a personal level. What I write now is going to be much more different than what I would have written then. This very fact, reveals the true picture. I want to plead guilty. But in doing so, I wish to trace the origins of the pathogen which has infected a part of our brains. I want to free myself of this infection. I sincerely hope that some of you do the same. 

A lot has been said, discussed and hotly debated on the Mumbai "terror attacks". Words cannot describe the horror, desperation, helplessness and of course, anger which almost all of us felt during the course of three horrid days. These feelings mentioned above, were indeed "felt", not only by Indians but by all "global" citizens. 

As a thinking individual, I was greatly affected by some scenes of this real-life drama. Some may see it as "sheer" narrow-mindedness. Some may think I am drifting from the matter at hand. But these scenes, symbolize the under-current, the current that opposes the current we see standing on the shore of the river. It urges us to jump into the river and flow along-with it, against the apparent flow. The formation of this under-current may not be fascinating and "correct" but that does not really matter if we want to defeat the situation at hand.

One of the causes of the formation of this under-current is the role of the media. The media plays the role of the cameraperson whose job in this case, is not only to cover the entire drama but also to put it on record so that it can be played repeatedly in front of us. It also plays the role of a critic and presents an infinite number of arguments before us in its analysis of the play. Considering the reputation of critics in today's world, some of these arguments are extremely thought provoking while some are "rubbish". It comes as no surprsie that these roles have both been praised and criticized by the "audience".

A well known news network started off well when the "drama" began. Both the anchor and correspondents were sensitive towards the emotions of the people and chose not to highlight  individual pain and suffering. They seemed duty-bound to show images and speak words that would enrage the public but at the same time not result in panic-buttons being pressed everywhere. Some other news channels tried getting as close to the action as possible. Some flew in their war and terror coverage "specialists" to report on the matter even before the NSG commandos could fly in. They could have benefitted the terrorists in doing so but that is again, a question of debate. 

What really upset me was the decision of the owner of the seemingly "responsible" news channel to take a U-turn on the second day. Co-ordinating with the most famous face in the Kargil War, he chose to exploit the emotions pouring out from personal tragedies of the victims. At times, it looked like the sole purpose was to highlight the devastation, visual and personal, caused by these attacks. One could not help but think that the perpetrators of this shameless act would be quenching their thirst from the blood oozing out of the scars being tampered with.

Another image which haunts me is that of the young terrorist, clearly pictured at the CSS Terminal. He looks just like any college going student on a carefree trek. Only, we cannot even imagine to what extent his mind has been poisoned. But what really disturbs me, is a confession I make to myself. This person resembles one of the heroes of many a computer games who is dressed to  kill. This image, somewhere, brings a strange sense of trueness to a "boyish" fantasy: to be heavily armed and shooting at the "bad guys". But the definition of "bad" here,  is highly subjective. If this is what I feel (and I am sure a lot of my friends who play such violent games identify with this), then one can only imagine how many more, waiting in the queue for their innocent "brains" to be washed, cleansed of all reasoning, would relate to this image. 

Does that the mean that the media is unjustified in its recording the whole drama? Is it against the underlying principle behind the formation of the anti-current? These concerns would be answered after I discuss another cause. This cause is hard to accept but if we let ourselves "open" to all ideas, it can be fathomed.

One can not really keep a count of the number of terrorist attacks being made on Indian soil. But what makes 26/11 different? Of course, the place of incidence was the heart of Indian finance and its metropolitan image. The fact that the whole episode stretched for almost three days and that it was impossible for anyone to escape the terror and despair caused by these attacks, was another major factor. But this time around, something else was different.

This time around, the rich and the "elite" could sense terror as they shivered watching the series of events pass.  A lot of them, prior to this attack, would have, in their minds, rated the probability of their being victims of a terrorist attack as minimal, especially in the comfort of five star hotels. Make no mistake when I say this. Of course, five star hotels and other such places could be easy targets, but in their minds, this possibility, just like the tip of an iceberg, remained remote. Only now, when a ship  was "hit" by the iceberg, did others realize the enormousness of the problem at hand.

And therefore, we could see intellectuals (mostly with a "five star" lifestyle) come out and speak strongly on matters of "grave concern". We have seen some of these people speaking out in public formus  on previous occassions but the only difference this time, as I see it, was that they were much more earnest in their views and expressions. They not only meant what they said but they believed. This time, one could sense, they "felt" fear. 

And while this may leave a bad taste in the reader's mouths, I feel that this is a blessing in disguise. At least now, we have a "single standard". The terrorists terrified the whole nation but unknowingly they left everyone "united in fear". Taj, Oberoi and Nariman House are to the "elite" and "influential" , what Patroclus was to Achilles in the Trojan war. The words of the influential, no doubt, boost everyone in the country. But more importatntly, the people whose voices can be heard, are waking up to the call. It is not just about resilience any more. It is about resistance.

These were my views right after the NSG operations got over.

More than two weeks have passed by and these thoughts are still fresh in my mind. Over this period, I have read some blogs, articles and statements. Not only people have expressed their anger and disapproval of what has been happening in the country, they have come with suggestions which could help improve our condition as a nation. In most cases, the proposed solutions are linked to evils (such as poverty, illiteracy, corruption)which have long been a part of our society. I would like to focus on two major concerns aired by a large number of people.

The first one is the need to elect the "right leaders", which, in turn, signifies the importance of voting. It is mostly those , who feel that their views should be heard, who do not vote. This includes me as well. I intend to vote from now on. But, I also feel that quite a sizeable population of this country, is not able to vote because the people concerned do not happen to stay in their respective states of domicile. This makes it difficult for many to take leave from their jobs in order to go back home and vote. This issue needs to be addressed when we discuss the importance of voting.

The second issue is that of "corruption".  The most common from of corruption, in everyday life, happens to be that of bribery. I have paid bribes and I have hated doing it everytime. People argue that sometimes they do not have any option. May be they are right but one can at least attempt to eliminate possible scenarios which lead to bribery. Some things just need to be a part of one's discipline, for example, following traffic rules, wearing your helmets, putting on safety belts, getting your vehicle registered and checked for pollution. I have been guilty of two of the offences mentioned.

And despite taking a decision to get my vehicle registered on 28/11, I still have not taken a step forward. This is what the conversation between Portia and Nerrissa from the Merchant of Venice signifies. One can preach others what to do but cannot follow one's own teaching.

Most of us, almost all, have gone back to their routines. A part of them got bruised by 26/11. It will heal until it is made fresh by another assault on the consciousness of this country. But this time, it was supposed to be different. This time we were not going to let it fade. Yet, I can see the Fire diminishing. I hope it is just the one inside me; I wish to rekindle it. But I know, there are many more like me. We can not let the Fire die down. We need to be reminded of this  time and again. And that is why the role of the media, one of the causes of the formation of this anti-current against terrorism, is important. There is a need to record every "drama" and play  it in front of our eyes so that we do not forget so easily the tragedy which can someday claim us as victims. 

Man uses fire to help keep wild animals, and thus, fear away. We should also use this Fire within us to ruin such horrendous acts of terror.

It is time for us to dive into the river and empower the undercurrent so that it not only resists terrorism but also sweeps away with its sheer force, the evils that are a part of our society.

Let us get rid of this pathogen which infects us.

I have not been a part of any candle light vigils or peaceful protest marches. But, if I can at least change myself to bring about an improvement, everyone can. A part of me really wanted to avoid writing this post, but a part of me wanted to plead guilty. And now that I have, I want to change things I can control, however small they may seem. 

And if anyone does want to comment, I would request the reader to mention at least one positive thing he or she has done to add fuel to the Fire. I would so the same.

Pichle Saat Dino Mein....(The Week That Was)

I am sitting in one of the omnipresent coffee shops on the face of this planet. I just escaped the commotion and noise in my apartment. I have scribbled some notes and the hospitable waitress serves me coffee, smiling, in anticipation that I would ask for my favourite snack which is almost never there.........

I always wanted this to be a no-nonsense, serious blog where the posts alone would suffice for all the thoughts I wished to express. I never wanted this blog to become "My Dear Diary" with me playing Betty's role. I am aware that there are eyes, some hawkish, some purely sceptical and some concerned, which would concentrate on every thought being expressed. But at the same time, there are readers, who have been generous enough to analyze what I had to convey and some have taken a step further by writing in comments. As much as I would like to play "on" the minds of the former, my respect and gratitude for the latter demands that I be upright, serious and lay emphasis on the content, not the author. This is the dilemma I face.

This blog belongs as much to all the readers mentioned above as it does to me. And now, I say to myself, "What the hell? If this blog is meant for the readers, I do bear the responsibility of interacting with them in more ways than one." And in order to fulfill that responsibility, I step out from the "distanced", passive author mode and adopt a more "active" role in this post.

Facts first. I have received great encouragement from the readers in terms of content and depth of the thoughts I have expressed. I promise to do even a better job and the role of your "comments", therefore, becomes much more important. I plead guilty for not writing through the week and not replying to comments. The comments would be replied to very soon.

The plot for this post goes like this. I would state the important outcomes (in terms of what is different) from the week that was and in the process build up a conflict of thoughts,  which would then throw up some open-ended questions.

The last week has been a "different" one, to say the least. I have reversed a few decisions, which is very uncharacteristic of me. I have decided to improve as a person, in areas where I lack. This includes not thinking and speculating "too" much about things which may be unnecessary or out of bounds. I mentioned "thin-slicing" in my previous post and I learnt it needs to be applied to the "thinking" process too. Some things need to be kept aside and should be considered when the time is right. 

I have been selfish, I felt fear, I felt remorse, I felt foolish and embarrased but then, I felt happy. I always avoided these negative emotions just mentioned, even if it were at the cost of the last one. But, I am still not convinced. Is it just a strong tide that has uprooted my long-held convictions. Were the roots weak somewhere? Or did the tree just get rid of its rotten parts? Was the flood a blessing in disguise?

Difficult questions, these. But they do raise two important questions for debate. These are similar in nature but have to be tackled in different ways. The first one is regarding "Present vs Future" and is one of the most common, yet muddling, dilemmas of all time. When I was in school, a very famous organization which "wants" to teach people an "art",visited us. The orator said that we should concentrate only on the present and not worry about the future. I was perturbed and annoyed to a certain extent. After the talk was over, I went up to him and asked him the most obvious question an ambitous, young mind would ask, "Is it not important to plan for the future and live accordingly?". He explained but I was not convinced.

But last week, I was made to re-think. I always thought that people, in general, get too involved with their present and there is a high probability that they will get lost in their ongoing struggles and conundrums. But the opposite could be true. I always look at the future and perhaps, there is a chance that I get so lost thinking about it that the present loses its significance and the link between the two gets broken. 

It is something like myopia and hypermetropia where both seem to have an advantage but infact, are undesired. Instead, the "normal" vision is preferred. And while I think of this analogy, I am struck by "lightning": a revelation. 

I have always maintained that two things in life are of utmost importance: balance and quality. But I had never thought of any concrete relation between the two. It is best to have the perfect balance and the highest quality. But this now seems to be the ideal case.  In the case of the visionary defects I mention, myopia provides the best quality if short-sightedness is desired. And the opposite stands true for hypermetropia. What does this signify?

It signifies that sometimes, balance and quality, have to be offset against each other!! You cannot have the best of both at times and that is what normal vision signifies. One desires a balance in vision at the cost of quality of a particular kind of vision. I wish to explore further on this accidental discovery. Please do post your views on this and I am sure we can find a better analogy than the one I have mentioned.

Moving on to the second question. This one brings to light the conflict between "Measured life" and "Free-flowing"life. It is related to the "Present vs Future" question in the sense that our decision on the first question, somewhat drives the approach adopted towards the second one.

Some of us  prefer to stop at certain junctures in life: to analyze, to reflect, to plan. This makes us feel more certain of what they stand for and what they want to achieve. On the other hand, some let themselves "flow" freely with life. They take things in their stride. Both ways of life have their pros and cons. The first kind may still "flow" at certain times. The second kind may still plan as they keep "flowing". Also, the first may not be able to achieve what they planned beacuse of stagnation and the second may just drift away into the unknown.  Certainly, it is about priority and also about the importance given to "certainity".

Can we have a perfectly smooth sail? Or do we stop at each port to consolidate and safeguard our position? As far as I am concerned, I did not stop at each port but I did stop. I did "flow" but I did fear drifting. Should I measure? Should I flow? Should I "measure my flow" or should I "flow" while measuring? Does this kind of thinking need to be thin-sliced? I am still to learn.

Note: I am not very sure if I remained in the"active" mode. I may have drifted away to the "passive" one (for I was letting my thoughts flow freely). It is for you to think. I am not thinking!!