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...........