Those awful Sunday Mornings

(I know awful is normally for monday mornings, but some sundays can also go bad)

you know, some sunday mornings, you wake up and just lie in bed....and are not feeling good about it..... life and career seem to have reached a zen stage where they intend to just sit at one place in ostensible meditation, but which is actually more like energyless slumber... ...

"excitement" sounds like one of those words that taint old pictures of childhood and irrationally hopeful days of youth...

... yeah...i am talking about one of those bad sunday mornings when u wake up, staring long into the distance watching Life become a smaller and smaller dot on the autobahn of Time as it walks away from you.....

And there is just one cure in the entire South Indian world for such Sunday mornings.....a good, strong cuppa of filter kaapi.....

Why this urge to create?

Why this urge to write?

Maybe, when we create something, a little of one's being is crystallized into something more tangible than a presence inside.

It is the only way one can hold oneself in the cup of one's own palm....and appreciate the beauty and wonder that God has put inside us.

When we create, we feel the creation of God that we are.

Yes, Again...yet again..

i have decided to start writing again...

maybe someday i will write a book,
maybe not
but atleast my grandkids will have something to read about
and feel embarrassed...

Guess a few thanks are due for this resurrection..

Thanks,
to Andy.
for his mindless courage.
Courage is anyways, by definition, mindlesness.
Courage is the inability to see the most obvious and logical outcome of one's decisions, and hence the possibility of creating some shockingly wonderful alternative realities.

to Fart, Vishy and Varath.
for their honest, comforting, cynical brand of curd-rice encouragement.
In Fart's case, make it curd rice laced with vodka.

Whenever I have fallen into the ice cold pool of dark, depressive thoughts these guys have grabbed me by my hair...and pushed me a little deeper into it.
So that I clearly felt and saw what I was comfortbaly sinking into... then they let me free, and I rush up gasping.

to Pondy.
for showing how stupidly one can fall in sensual love with nothing but ideas.
even if they are not one's own original ideas.

to Adak.
for alternately giving advice and laughing as if on dope....laughing, as if that's the only way he knows to breathe

to Narayan.
for long my better half.
a better half i long for even now.
(well....if that scares the girls away from me....sweethearts, u havent exactly been falling all over me either)

to Shantanu.
The jagat-uncle.
who has been trying to make me grow up as hard as he has been trying to grow himself down

to Ali
who keeps dumping horribly written books by grammar/decency/sex-starved fresh engineering grads on my desk with a "if-they-can-so-can-you" shout hurled down his pointing index finger right into my face.

to Hima.
the critic-who-is-dangerous-when-drunk.

to Pappa.
for just being such a pleasant sight to the eyes.
I remember the mornings you would bounce in like a hot-air balloon into my hostel room...and i would wonder in my half-sleep whether it was again one of those complete solar eclipse days....such round darkness...

to Zahra
well....i finally met her ;)
and she is every bit a hot tumbler of strong filter kaapi....

and to someone who makes me half-scared-half-hopeful...

There....I am done with the "Thanks" page of my book, if ever there would be one.
I just re-read it and it surprisingly reads like a farewell note.....

So, dear Grandkids....
if you are ever embarassed of your grandpa...you know exactly which of his friends to avoid...

A Father's Prayer.....Or......God's Prayer

Do i protect you from getting hurt,
and let you become angry at me
for not letting you do what you want to
and never knowing that i did it
to protect you
Never even knowing there was
something to be protected from..

And maybe making you love me a little less for that,
if not less than your love in the past for me,
definitely a little less than your present love for your friends
who, like you, see your dream
but can't see the distance..

Or,

Do I let you go and dare?
I let you go....and....
wait,
hoping
praying
crying
silently
that when you do come back
the damage is not so much
that i can't nurse you back
that i can't make you whole again
i hope...
knotting and unkontting my fingers in teary prayers
i hope..
that when you come back
from your flight
there is some you still left inside of you..

I love you, my child,
I love you..
What do I do?

A Beautiful mind
An ugly thought;
A dream of the night,
In morning mist lost;
Meanings and Purposes -
A troubled search in the surreal hours,
Counting victories and Losses
Not realizing this battle is not ours ;
Dying to make a difference,
Dying to be different,
My life above all !!!!!
A call in vain…though eloquent;
Relax O' restless Traveller,
Remember you are just….. a traveler
The journey is all there is, all there was,
A destination was never.

can you believe it...somebody wants em to write :))

http://www.yourstory.in/blogs/team-blogs/6-a-personal-search-.html

dear Zahra,

i am awed by the strength of your good wishes, finally someone has asked me to write for them....

God bless you :)

excerpts from another mail

yeah, yeah, see u on sunday....for sure...

...and i guess, the day u write that big mail to me about all the things that you have been wanting to tell
would be the day you will see an Al Jazeera exclusive video footage of Bush and Osama kissing each other outside a niche marriage court in California....


:((
i got into such trouble today...
and not for much good reason too...
my room mate had forgotten his mobile at our home, i went back at home during lunch for some small work,
and saw his mobile lying there,
i took it along intending to return it to him
but then my conscience balked at the thought of returning back the phone unmolested and its owner unconfounded,
so i just typed an sms
"Call me immediately"
and sent it to the first 7-8 female names i found on his list
and then gave the mobile back to our guy...


and in a couple of minutes he is getting calls from relatives long forgotten
but the worst part was
when a couple of women he had been seeing for marriage, but where the talks had collapsed unceremoniusly much like Israel-Palestine peace talks,
started calling him up and asking what the shit he was upto after such a long time....

as would seem logical from the above delineated sequence of events
our man got mightily pissed off
and the first hints of it came to me
when he passed by my desk in office, and made a certain twitching gesture of his right hand fingers
which somehow my mind inchoately processed as a demand, and far less a request, of wanting me to meet outside...

his soft body language, and soft grimaces notwithstanding, i deduced --- drawing from my deep
experience in studying and understanding finer human emotions of not-so-fine humans--- from his cryptic words
that he was not happy with me :
"What were you thinking!!!???? This is deep shit now !!!!! You have gotten me into deep shit !!!!!
You are @#$##^& &^%**((*&&^^%%$%^& ))(*&^^&^%$$$$$
I don't want to discuss this here,
we will go home and talk about it "


He is already at home
waiting for me
And i sit here, typing this mail,
trying to work off my state of fear through my trembling fears on this keyboard...

he is a soft-spoken guy
what i am concerned about is that
he might not be such a soft-fisted guy.....