Never Mind...

The choice is yours !!!

When I got up late in the night,I was profusely sweating.Mind numb,senses gone for a toss,my throat parched,my eyes still holding the spectre of the last visage of my dream,my head being ripped apart from the acute pain.But!!! who did this to me? and why?

At the crossroads of a life transcending experince,I felt that I had a choice.The arrows towards my choices weren`t bearing any destination per se,but were glowing with the impeding radiance aka the implications of trudging along the said path.Often!I took the wrong turn.Often my mind skewed towards the wrong curve bend of thoughts.The constant ropepulling tug of war between the mind and the body who were pitching their regulations whould land me in a soup.

The free mind which is free from any clutter of choices,being a newfangled dictator,it shrouded my good sense of objectivism.The white & purely virgin plane that hasn`t been marred by the spoils of bad choices,is so much more divine than a mortal state.

We all learn!We all unlearn!!But I forgot to unlearn and hence to learn.With the safe leaving of knowledge,the space for taking decisions was often overparked with the ships that carried and ferried the imposing thoughts of others.The white line of the seperation often found me on the wrong side of things.

In hindsight,I often have fumbled on the eve of the most life changing choices.Being unaware of your follies,being able to connivingly hide your misgivings and gaffes & or being naiive enough not to know what a deal has in store for you is normal.Its like a ladder.Only once you go on climbing further,you realise how unbalanced your climb is.No one is enlightened enough to strengthen their base before they monkey the rungs.The curves of the brain zigsaw are devilish.They transform themselves as one goes along.I no longer enjoy throwing stones at the electricity poles,neither I get any succour from the con that I played on others.The choice of leaving & new inducing pleasure points of life has been a reflexive action.I never by choice left to read my childhood comic books and pick up the literary frescos.It happened!!

Luxury of not being the bearer of the flag when a running track changes in the end demonifies to a peace devouring monster.Being the monster of your own choices is the best throne one can vie for.The weather,the health are all fleeting & out of your field of control.The best choices are made when the occassional hiccup doesn`t derail your progress.The need or better term 'the essence' of being a high energy horse also entails dissipating of numerous storms of the teacups.

The projection of your thoughts on the flimsy curtain of present time would reveal to you how it has been contaminated by the baggage of the past and the throes of an uncertain future.The mind when put on the anvil of choice fears the hammer.If the pain is accepted,the fear obliterated,the shaping would be perfect and the forging immaculate.

The choice which is always with us to entertain is wrested from our control by a combined force that`s being marshalled by the examples that have been set and we have been constantly grawled upon by the paper tigers who fear our inner fire,lest if we discover it,they `ll be cindered in good`ol history.

Wondering When The Wistful Wishes Will Woosh!....

Maybe! Just Maybe!!

Your wish!!Saying this I accede to her demands.I am a slave.I thought I wasnt!But the clamps lost their keys on me ever since I first saw my own reflection in her reddish brown retinas.What`s been going on isn`t what you wish for.

Time isn`t a dimension anymore.Its no more a mirage,its marriage of all your deeds with all your wishes.I searched for it!For her!For the fleeting moistness in the eyes,for that glint!,for that cherry picked cheeks that bloom everytime her lips part in a smile.Maybe I`ve found what I was looking for.I can`t be sure though.Not till I wake up from this reverie.

Lets look at the situation with a bird`s eye view.I am a fool.And a smart one at that too.Looking for the vital signs.I meandered ,I philadered.To throw some sand in the gears,I paused.Never pushed the diving board down.Maybe I was confused.More silly than what others thought.More sadist than what others believed.Less lucky than what others surmised.Cocky as I was,I was served well.My better half was not even halfway through the carpet when I gave upon the pedestal.Being impatient was always a blunder,being patient a crime.I chose the blunder.My Wish!Granted!!

Look at my back!All hunched and nicely boned,but turns out to be a cropper when I am faced with change.Hope is not a worthy companion.Luck is someone who is either after you or before you,in a race with you but never with you.The binary language of "IFs" and "BUTs" burden your tounge & psyche.I dream!Always!!...........but in vain.

The saccharin that is success eventually takes you out by having you diabetic.The quinine that is defeat lures you,all veiled up in the splendence of the impossible.I rest on my laurels.All the while!!......to my chagrin.

The dirt around me blinds me.I become a sopper for others dirt.The valium of my filter slowly looses its sheen as I go on mellifluosly playing and paying dirt.The green planet never was green.No good being inert.Take sides.Be polarised!!I`ve realised this maxim.Alas!!...........too late.

Decision to bind me was mine,to hold me back was of my mind`s creation.To keep the glitterati at bay,the call came from the pumping lump of blood veined in my left chest cleft.This is my progeny.The state is created with my consent.Frankensteined!!,I stand reading hymnes/verses from the bible as the monster was being earthed.I am the dead in the coffin,I am the undertaker,I was the murderer and I am also the one who shed crocodile tears on my back.Tears well up in my eye sockets!All for myself!!..........how selfish.

The backburner now being burned to cinders,the depenndence now facing a no-trust vote,the meandering mind tethered firmly to my realities,I veer away.To warm the cockles,I will tread on the path that I see light coming from!........just in time.

Once again my beloved calls me! From the deep forest of chestnut trees,so dense that she is all but invisible.I believe in her,the voice yearning for the resonance tone,I cry out!!!

This time though with my waking eyes.....And thank god for that.

The Game Memory Plays...

Memry & My Mnd: Hw do I Rmeber the frgoten & ho I fogt the unfogetn

Zero sum game of my mind reaching out to a globule of my brain to brainpick the hidden brainwaves that have got lost amongst the stockpile of blabber and claptrap that not only is polluting the evirons in the neighbourhood of the soft matter beneath my hard skull but also are making my memory an unmemorable chimera is now down to its slog overs.

              

Just as I was seeking the lost information, a new plethora of bytes came knocking at the doors of the sentries of my nervous system. Already fuzzy and already overprocessed,the brain`s search engine returned results that would even put the erstwhile MSN to shame. That piece of information demanded by an extended agent is often harassed by the beaureaucracy that`s prevalent in the inner system gets house arrested & often is threatened by the goons of the inertia mafia.Flummoxed,flustered and deeply agitated, the mind puts the checks and balances in place to solve the murder mystery but ends up only getting hold of the good guys, letting the restrainers go free and puts the saviours under the shackles of mind cells Ala gauntamento.

          What I know of the last vow that I took upon? Has that promise been kept? Has that memory stayed in the forefront of my 6/6 vision? Or the moment was just for a moment and my memory just a shifting window that gives the vision of the incoming events and lets the already processed ones go by and rot in the marshes of my decaying mind?

            Right now I cant process whatever’s being said to me,that`s because the query isnt laden with constraints Aka "pin" that pinches the FIFO list of the information index & scourges the thing so solicited by the process. One thing though jumps out shock faced from the dark welled annuls of my ROM memory is that I can’t forget to forget that which is touted as being important.

                    

  The purging of the read emails from my inbox sends them to trash. As new emails crowd the inbox, this process is quintessential to maintain the ACIDity of my memory database. But how come the trash automatically disembowels? Why cant the memory stop behaving like a leaky cauldron & instead have a parallel arrangement to catch the overflowing  viscous fluid ? On the first evidence it allows the froth to be manipulated by too many cooks it seems.

                  

With the cloud computing now a revelation, I have begun to see a cloud clouding my brain too. A cloud of unwanted information, a cloud of unsolicited memories, a cloud of piercing, shrieking and cannibalising spectres of the past that haunt the very soul of other memories and scare them into obscurity. Maybe I need a Gmail account embedded in my memory to have the lost memories unfurled and laid bare to my sore eyes now puffy from the rolling they receive whenever a negative response they get from the brain whenever the Prof asks a question to me.

               

On second thoughts, I think I will ask Google…..They can do anything now ...maybe...just maybe I will remember what I initially wanted to write here someday ....Amen!!!       

Booming voice of the announcers blares over the imaginary microphone,"The brain in blue shorts, donning white gloves this side"... Cheers follow...hooting from the opposite camp..

"The memory in black shorts donning golden gloves that side"....Cheers follow...some catcalls from the audience...

           Since eternity, the match has been pushed to a no contest, stretched to countless rounds...a bloody affair..

with each player delting and pelting heavy blows to other and also receiving a body shot here and there. A upper left cut  here ...a jab in the ribs there ...a sliced forehand that just missed the eyebrows...a powerful punch to the jaw that seemed it took a splinter with it...a block that sent the shockwaves that hit the  perpetrator with double force..

        Each warrior iron clad….Each opponent bruised and battered...each wearing proudly glory cuts and bruises as if they are the war medals..But the truth is that they are struck in the arena…..They are tied to each other ,hinged to one another ..Otherwise both useless mercenaries.....

  

My Hand At Poetry ...(1)

Prose’s...verses....sonnets...don’t know what they are called...

1. Beautiful sunrise, awesome sunset;

  The nature played with me in jest;

  Mind rejuvenated after a well deserved rest;

  I could now see the beauty in the birds returning to their nest.

2.

 Dark forces taking over the fortress of love;

 The pure lighted heart now hiding in an alcove;

 Mindless abyss, the world was now in a tow;

 I wondered who the hell started the row;

And then the dark knight comes with more seeds to sow;

I shudder at the prospect of having to show;

The skeletons of my closet now on my brow;

Still the light kindles in the heart, though slow;

I am hopeful that I’ll fight off the foe.

3.

 Just as I was putting the bill through;

Her hands came and threatened to sue;

Our eyes locked as if in a truce;

My heart adding that needed spruce;

Our match finally then ended in a deuce.

4. 

My life comes about a complete circle;

It just can’t come up with a manacle;

The changes happening now are so subtle;

That I can’t decipher anything in the din and the clutter;

I might just have developed some jitters;

Alas, if only confidence building was a sitter;

Neways,now as I have joined twitter;

It bodes well for me as I aim to be fitter.

5.

The trees wave their approval, the birds chirp their praise;

  The traveller comes forth again in less sunlight & in haze;

  Hair down, clothes shabby the unshaven body smelly;

  A lot of rest and non-hygiene was quite visible through the belly;

But the sojourn was on the run now;

The journey unabated, shoes hot on the soles, holy cow!!

The atmosphere not virulent, the zephyr bellowing through the heat, the traveller said WOW!!!

Quite an effort that not to succumb;

To the woes and the wombs of time;

But as the future promised, the pain was worth every penny and dime.

6.

 Mind occupied by shenanigans;

 And eyes submerged by water from onions;

I trot away, I jog away, I fly away on my pinions;

To bolster the chances of being true;

I never give honesty a piece of my shoe;

Wonder why the world is in such a fix;

Clearly there’s something horribly wrong with the mix

Of the king and the pauper and of the food and the platter.

7.

 sucked away in the vortex of my own blood;

I came out trying to grasp straws & at best a dud;

Night dawns dousing the fire within, so sad;

Coz I was just beginning to ignite the morning fad.

8. 

The poetic justice of hanging a poet dead;

Is always there even if tears are well-shed;

The majestic crooning of prose if properly read;

Can even bring back the mind from the useless field.

9. 

The plane takes off from the tarmac;

The Englishman opens up the coniac;

He soon will turn into an unruly maniac;

The air hostess won’t be able to clean the muck;

The cops turn up, putting the handcuff, aloud clunk;

He will rot in the cell for the time of a great chunk.

10.

 I missed the details;

  Of what the beauty entails;

The enchanting show curtails;

The ability of world derails;

The train of thoughts that set sail.

11. 

  The last sonnet for today;

 Will describe story of my heyday;

 When I didn’t do work for gainsay;

 Till the point when I last had my say;

 It all happened in the month of May;

When a beautiful maid came my way;

I found on the road, there my heart lay;

I thought her hands smeared in clay;

The smell which I savoured being happy and gay;

Not knowing the imminent night flapping its wings;

What dawned next was a spate of dreams;

Where I was at last in the garden of screams;

The winged angel came with his bow and arrow;

To fill my heart with joy and relieve me of my sorrow;

Now I believe in the feeling called love;

For I have been sent to the heavens, removed from the trove.

12.

 Lonely and unheard, forlorn and invisible;

I came out of shadows, still unbelievable;

The high that one gets in beating the odds;

Is like watching the forest perched atop.

Whatever I target to usurp;

Falls straight into my cusp;

But what I wish to achieve;

Never meet me, hard to believe.

13. 

The heat searing, the rays convergent;

The sun with its eyes wide open is a bad sergeant;

The green arms open side, the shadow a life saviour;

The trees provide respite, that’s model behaviour;

Water although in steams, quenches the thirst;

But only those who beat the mirage and reach their first;

Laid in the depths of the fallow land;

Is a diamond,uncut,yet shiny as a light strand;

The nature is both punishing and nurturing;

Follow the water, leave the diamond glittering.

14. 

Whenever I will come aboard the bus `ol wise;

I will forget my vices & have my best foot fad to rise;

Cometh the hour,cometh the man us the way they prise;

The confidence and integrity which sadly was in eternal demise.

The Journey Immortalised in Space And Time...

I want to catch the train ...but alas the wheels just got off as i got in...

HAHAHAHHAHAHH...The sporadic laughter continues. The innuendo was incomprehensible to my greenhorn mind. After all I was a novice in the game and I was pitted against the trend setters. I didn’t mind the insult. I knew what it meant, that i was close to quirking the head of the legend. They knew of the fallacy. The plan was nowhere close to being unsurpassable. And maybe I have the key to the exit door. But the ordeal had to be beared. The pain was not something that could be bunked. Flying the coop from the coup-de-etat however strategically flawed will not be granted till the point of inflexion.

                     A blank call! A wrong no! A ticket without the station’s name imprinted, a journey undisclosed. But the clue was out there somewhere. Seeking my attention, the already irradiated marker would beep its radiance till I reach its hiding place and unfurl the secret scroll. A wonder journey calls for its green signal.

    Languishing deep within the set pieces, lay the organogram.The structure seemingly indestructible hides within its bodice the skeleton of its undoing. The jungle of the great bushes and beasts enchants. Luring me within its bowels, the hobo camp engulfs me into its high pitched call of the lemur, the bird scattering roar of the lion, the ground shaking elephant run. The similes that describe the beauty of the waylaying forest need to be imported from the abstract. But I am just a visitor here, a temporary traveller, a lonely wanderer, a vagrant! That’s probably the reason I am spared the sacrifice.Anyways as I went deep into the woods taken by the converging and diverging dust lanes I encountered the Tell-tale signs of a deep rooted mystery. As I picked up the portenders,they baffled me even more. It hypnotised me; it sucked me deep into the vortex of unimaginable possibilities. Maybe the nature has added on to the enigma. Maybe I am hallucinating.Maybe,just maybe that’s why I am on the right course.

                         The clues lead me to the congregating place. The incessant chatter is starting to eat into my patience quota. My coherence on the verge of extinction, the exhaustion paling the intelligence I crave for an aid. The shimmer of the light incident on my face told me to follow the bandwagon. The concourse without knowing did me a favour. It led me to the porta.The place although a tad too tight for my mind to enter; it consumed my weariness and offered me an escape to the final boarding place.

                   The happy hooting of the train’s steam vent set my pulse racing. The haunting cranking of the shanks satiated my dreamy fetishes. But as I was about to put my foot into the coach that bore the mark, the screech drew my attention. Notwithstanding of my instincts that told me to let the sufferers be devoured and escape unscathed, I too joined the tumult. Threw some down the drains, kisses few blows, stretched my tendrils, broke some knuckles and finally got aboard the caterpillar.

        The journey was itself a revelation. The blur that was the destination now clearing is now in its full bloom, showcasing the facade it was bearing. Slightly bemused by my presence its nerves jingling on its forehead, it never gave away its haughtiness laden demeanour. A respectful opponent, a formidable foe, the draped imposter wasn’t going to be a lonesome calf lost amongst the beasts. I was prepared for the worst, the sleeves full of underhand weapons; I was ready to strike that first blow. The battle ground now had a tinge of reddish about it. The foreclosure of the opponent’s luck had the tide in my favour.

             Shots fired ...one after other...

 Just as I was about to succumb, my heart sent me a reminder dove. True to my procrastinating nature, I delayed the confrontation. Facing your nemesis in broad daylight and that too aft you have gone through so much to allay your pain is a pain in itself. The wheels of my patience finally left the strings they were tethered to and rolled on to another track. I was left. I protested the neglect. But my voice got reverberated back to my own eardrums. All were gone, the loneliness victorious, I cried! I moaned the loss!

I lamented the gain!

      All pieces in their right place, the riddle finally solved, I sat hunched.Sqatting,I contemplated my next thought wave. When will the circle come to its initial point? Is there anything as an initial point? Or we can very well start again? The same mindless search, the same madness all over again? Gyrating on my heels, my senses gone for a toss, I made my decision.

So what if the work is done...So what if the peace is ensured...

I will create the work...I will make the trouble...

         

                  Sitting on the opposite side of the canvas makes all the difference. Being a muse and being the artist are not like each other at all. A creator sets the ball rolling and the followers roll with it. Bemusing to me initially but as much as I was inclined to being a saviour I was now visibly more so in creating some. Putting the cart before the horse is something now I know. And I am drawing enough pleasure from it to rake the leaves of my sanctity and morality and throw them in the nearby stream. What! I am doing the world a favour. It needs heroes. The dearth was never of the spotless ones, the rare are the rotten ones. I am creating the reason. The ends to the means is more important. Self introspection lets you meet the other guy. The imposter within you surfaces and lifts that veil. A thief aright scoundrel nonetheless, he at least is the true master.

                           The disturbing images flying past, I sat cross legged. They have reached the fort Knox. They have gone past the traps and collated the clues. I feel fear for the first time since a long time. It is swooping down the entire length of my existence and making my victory look innocuous. Taking blows after blows, my reservations are finally generalised. I accept the licking. Now the ball and the racquet were in the other court. I could only stare in astonishment. I could only wait for the imminent. Seeing the dread fill the air I flee. Borrowing the wings, I flew on the currents of the incoming tempest.

       

       Later again I shall rise...

       That time a tad wise...

       If only I could surmise...

       The penalty and the prize...

      

       

Imagine the creativity within ...

Imagination Fails to Impress upon Ideas Of Creativity...
Creativity plays hide and seek with imagination...

The greatest mismatch!The round peg in the square hole!The wrong sword in the scabbard.Still they are very much connected.By a thread so loosely woven that the cloth is almost threadbare.I dream,I imagine,I pour my heart out on paper.But what`s the level of grain that these two sheets share & are able to rub upon each other?
         When I think about the immense possibilities that my mind throws at me & when I am circumspect of my senses,be it vision,touch or auditory ,I am deceived.The unhinged collusion is automatic & it culminates into an beautiful hypnotic chimera.

     Creativity fills my heart!It dominates my vision and transcends my sense of time.The srewing of nut makes me to look beyond the mundane rotation and draws my eyes towards the markings and how they move and accept each other`s presence.In a fishbowl,I seldom see the creatures rebounding off the glass walls but the transparent pasting of the picture onto the backwall excites me.
       The flux of the indifferent field of creativity makes the diodes of my hands manoeuver the pencil to create one magnum opus after other,also lets me unleash the gravity of a hammer on the anvil,also let my hand release the accelerator in the nick of time to avoid the incoming road dasher.
                   Seeing the beauty & precision in the burn marks or the scars berefts me of the desire to chase away beauty in its crude form.Also the culture I have been exposed to impinges on my creativity and it frees me in another way thus rendering me to let go of myself.Retrenching from the norms in a way feeds the burner of creativity like a high temp ethanol.The fuel of the satisfaction in drawing set stares & awes in amazement from the other set of retinas gets the word ordinary being reduced to flotsam.The jetlag of being outflown by others in the rat race demand a jacuzzi of creativity with oils and fragrances of imaginative ideas.

                    
Books give you ideas that you have already promulgated or about to in the future.The book instilled in your eyes dosen`t have any topics to boot,it is purely ephemeral in context and size.The bookmarks are the only concrete roadmarkers in an otherwise indiscernible life journey.
     The jargons clutter our creativity and reduce our mindframe to a paltry dictionary of heavy words bombarded from outside,where as the way should be the inwardly out starting with the simple idea that fissions out to become a creative mcbeth.
    Time isnt a constraint in being an imaginative and creative person.Time itself is creative notwithstanding the popular belief that it is monotonous.It races past when your creative glands are on work and it snails when you are becoming stagnant and unproductive.I also try to be creative in practising religion.While meditating,I imagine that I have become thoughtless.And my creativity and imagination safely locked in a safe and chained away to be throwned deep down in the darkest nook of the mariana trench.

Be creative ...Add spice to your life ..
Be imaginative ...life may not afterall be so real ...
 But if you cant just be yourself ..

       

Listen To What The Vuvuzela Says..

Are we listening to the Game?

The realistic Oxymoron of Fair IPL auctions;the unrealistic oxymoron of cash rich hockey team;the fantasy of some olympic medals;the hullaballo over foreign teams playing in the FIFA world cup.
                 Some of the things that are dominant in the minds and times of a average sportsman when he thinks about sports in INDIA.The advent of corporates in the sports arena has set the cash counters tingling ,but it has also brought the snake of corruption with its fangs, slithering and stalking.
            The IPL is rapidly becoming a graveyard for pure cricket.The cricket ball instead of being hitted out of the park by a batsman finds itself swinging reverse between the warring factions of the indian cricket board in a game that more resembles a musical chair.But what is the problem that has plagued the concept?what has got into the mind of the owner of the golden goose?Is he going to kill the IPL..He has almost done it.
     The Problem with IPL is the inordinate amount of money involved.The problem of IPL is the mix of politicians in the cricketing circles,and the spreading of the cricketing virus amongst the political gentry.The IPL auctions were recently under the scanner as well as the ownership of some of the teams.But how and why all issues burst into prominance at the opportune time ?Its like that the master now dont anymore require the sevices of his servant and hence he is sacrificed.The layers of the corruptions if so deep and so very meticulous begs the question of the sanctity of all those involved in the concept from hair tip to the tooth nail.Some billions spent over a team purchase had many eyes rolling ,and then just after 2 editions some billions spent on just one player who hasnt played even test cricket had free heads lolling also.However the problem is not the money or the dearth/Excess of it.The problem is the way that the greenback has taken over the red cherry in the central discussion about the game.The distress signal that the game is getting is far more worrisome from the cracks now visible in the administrator`s boat.
                      
                Mr Modi,tharoor,pawar,etc ...,are you all listening !!"

At the Diagramatically opposite point on the circle of money and fame sits our hockey team.It seems that the national game has been jinxed.Many a times it happens that the team performs well,wins a trophy,after much protest and strife gets a good sponser and then again slips into the loosing manhole.The cat and mouse game between the money and performance in hockey would have even got Lord disney interested in another series of tom and jerry.Recently the team won the sultan azlan shah cup ,though jointly but is a great achievement.The win however pales in the disappointment of not making it to olympics.What i feel can be done to spark interest in the game of hockey now so very dominated by europians is allow the subcontinent nations to have the grass pitches.On the lines of cricket,let the home country decide whether they want an astro turf or not.A far shot ,but atleast it would be a spark in an otherwise controversy ridden and breaureaucracy stricken game of hockey.
            
               "Mr Gill,Are you listening !!"

 Now since the time abhinav bindra won that Au medal,the only times i hear him in the news is the rift that the shooting fraternity and himself are involved in.The way we treat our champions is indeed very pathetically different.It seems that to secure that elusive medal,the players need to be prepared all by themselves ,hire a foreign coach,get the kits by themselves,and worst of all owning to complete lack of support also they have to be self motivated.We love to drown our heroes in anonymity it seems.The medals are just a testimony to an athletes hard work of years.So instead of reserving money to shower it after a poor athlete wins a unexpected medal,spend it on the support our athletes need.(atleast they are not playing with injuries and arent overweight!!)

              "Mr Kalmadi,Are you listening!!"
        

        And Now is the turn of the FIFA.Apart from the usual and the daily clamour over the vuvuzela and the jabulani,the celebrations are as riveting and moving as they could be.But it pains me to not being able to root for a indian football team.The movie GOAL actually spreads the idea,as pathetic the movie was ,worst is the state of the beautiful game in the country.Why cant our bhangra match with the brazilian samba? why cant our innate conservatism be of the same quality as german defence? Why cant a messi dazzle be seen in the feet of a local bhutia or vijayan?

                
 Sure we can play the beautiful game beautifully,just need to get that jabulani out of its holder and learn to control it better than the foreigners and also for the fans:learn to honk the vuvuvzela..the opposition players might not like it!!
                "Soccer Fans,Are you listening!!"