Tag Archives: Abstract

Carousel

17 Apr

Something in word that sets a flutter in the heart… each time one hears the word, unfailingly, a start.
Merry music fades in and out. Little children, round and round. To the sound of the carousel.
Innocent chanter, mindless banter. Not a wrong to worry about. Nowhere to get, nothing to achieve, nobody to find. Skip to the sound of the carousel.
Everlasting childhood for age is but a mere number, counted on two hands.
Clamber on to the wooden horse, and hold on for the ride.
The music flows, the chatter grows, but not the pace of time.
Heed the sound of the carousel, the music is sublime.
Unleash your joy, your thoughts and laughter,
Life is but a rhyme,
Dance along the carousel, and let your souls entwine.

As the clock struck twelve…

15 Mar

… he inched a little closer to the inevitable yet distant, and ever-so-elusive end…

Myths, Fables, Mystery

3 Jun

I’ve always had an extreme fascination for mysteries. No, not the murderous kind, but historical ones. My failing memory that several of you must be familiar with, fails to retain which all I’ve come across in my lifetime, but some of the salient ones will never leave my thoughts.

 

I’d read in the paper the other day about the discovery of a fossil that resembles the Loch Ness Monster. The article immediately attracted my attention, given my fascination with legends and legendary characters. I’d never really heard of the creature, per se, but on reading that its existence was debated, it immediately caught my fascination. So much so that I googled it today, and subsequently you-tubed it. Unfortunately, I didn’t find much material on it, and not as many videos as I hoped to. It brought back memories, though, of the Giant Squid fascination I’d had for a while some months back after reading about it in the paper. Shockingly little recordings exist of that creature, and practically none of a living specimen, which surprises me in the present times.

As I write this, other past fascinations come to mind. For example, there’s the undying story of the Titanic. It all started, of course, with the release of the film. What followed was a spate of documentaries pertaining to the discovery of the wreckage. Some of them would be screened as late as 11 pm at night, and young as I was then, I had to fight with Mom to allow her to let me watch it.
It feels so strange to be affected so deeply by the whole incident. I feel nostalgic when I watch footage of the ship wreck, the grand staircase, the fireplace mantles, cutlery and so on. I feel saddened by the thought of the remains of the ship, so much of it intact, lying at the bottom of the sea, slowly disintegrating with every passing year. I feel cheated by technological advancement, for its inability be able to salvage the remains and raise what’s left of it, so that it can be protected forever. Then again, I also feel angered by the “moral” fools who wouldn’t want the Titanic touched because they consider it a gravesite. What good is a gravesite if it’ll crumble away in 50 years or so?

From clips of the Loch Ness monster, I moved on to UFO sightings. Finding nothing fascinating, I resisted the temptation of googling ghost videos (not advisable for me after dark) and instead googled videos relating to the Last Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanov, who I was first introduced to through a book I’d read around the time I was 14. I was terribly fascinated with her story as well, and would follow it passionately in the years to come. I was taken aback on learning today, and a bit disappointed to know, that Anastasia’s remains were discovered only last year (and I’m surprised it escaped my notice). All the mysteries surrounding her alleged escape from death back in 1918 were put to rest, and the poor girl, it seems, had been brutally  murdered with family over 90 years ago.

If there was no mystery left in life, I’d hardly find reason to live…

Half Past Two

20 May

I was tucking myself into my bed, to finally fall asleep after completing more study in one evening than I can recall managing in the past 3 years. I’d popped my (noise-reduction) headphones and was all set to doze off to the sound of Fields Of Gold, when I happened to pull one out to readjust it in my ear, only to hear the sound of rainfall. Not just a soft pitter-patter, but a full-fledged thunderstorm.

I’ve been meaning to write about it for the last 2 times that it rained this summer, but never quite got down to doing it. The most recent shower happened 2 days ago, and the drastic change of weather it brought about is pretty much the reason I’m ill during my exams.
But no hard feelings.

Tonight, this thunderstorm has pretty much signalled the arrival of the monsoon here. My window is open, and the strong winds are blowing a spray right across the length of the window ledge, my table, onto my laptop and my bed. In fact, I’m constantly having to wipe my laptop, lest the water percolate into it and cause extensive damage.

Half an hour has elapsed and the rain is refusing to die down. Thunder keeps recurring, but lightning is quite constant. It’s strange though, lightning without thunder, but I’ve gotten used to strange phenomena, living here. I recall one night towards the end of my first year, when my bed used to be along the length of my window. I was woken up at around 4 in the morningby the sound of what seemed to be construction work proceeding on the floor above me. Or as if some vandalists were smashing college tables. It was the thunder of course, and it felt quite unreal. Louder and more dramatic than what one hears in the old Hindi flicks.

Thunderstorms are nearly as dear to me as winters. They also carry on them an air of melancholy. Of heartbreak, departures and tragedy. Some 3 years back, I would often listen to a couple of James Blunt tracks on rewind through the monsoon season in Delhi just before I was to begin college. Even when I play those tracks now, thoughts of thunderstorms come rushing into my mind, heart and senses. It makes me 3 notches depressed and 5 notches happier.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop finding solace in thoughts of sorrow.

 

I think this is another song I’ll now be able to associate with Thunderstorms…

SummerStorm

14 Mar

On Friday evening, when we were driving back late at night, Hagatha prophesied that it would rain soon, probably the next day.

I looked up at the clear, starry sky. I thought back to the sunny afternoons of the weeks gone by. I thought over the reliability of her senses. I recalled my birthday dinner last year, which was outdoors and at the risk of being a washout.
It would probably rain the next day.

The next afternoon was clear, as always. Scanty clouds were scattered across the sky. The sun was scorching.Summer Storm
By evening, the clouds were moving towards us, from across the valley. It was breathtaking. The telephones came out, and the photo session started in the library.

Within moments, Hagatha and I had decided to drop the books and rush to the nearest open field in town. We dragged ex-roomie with us, and within half an hour, we were standing on open grounds, welcoming the clouds as they approached closer. The gale was literally throwing us off balance, and lightning was striking ground not very far away, but at a reasonably safe distance off. We were standing under a shelter, but within moments the rain and wind combine had us drenched.
So we stood there for an hour, waiting for the rain to subside, freezing in our cold, wet clothes. When it eventually did, we rushed off to a dinner of cold friend chicken, came back to the room for a nice hot bath, and headed back to the library as if nothing had ever happened.

The day was hot and sunny, today. I walked to the library, and was almost burnt by the time I reached. By 7 in the evening, when I was heading in after a cup of coffee, lightning once again caught my eye. I rushed in, warned all, and we set out to reach home, before it began to pour.

As I was driving back, I once again saw lightning strike ground, spread across the sky and take almost every possible shape it could, at amazingly high frequency. I managed to make it to my room in time, though.

So I sit here on my bed, shivering just a little bit. It’s during moments like these that I truly feel that I’m in heaven on earth.
Truly.

23 Dec

Do not elude me, do not hide
Where there’s virtue, there is pride
What reason do I have, beside?
To be made Indignified?

I see freedom, freedom yonder
What I have is all in sunder
I see joy, it makes we wonder
That I am Indignified

For your caress I do long
Like a mother’s touch and song
To feel loved and not feel wronged
Not to be Indignified

Leave my imprints on the sand as
I walk into the rising tide

____

14 lines! Next time, I’ll satisfy all criteria to make it a sonnet!

The Way of the World

22 Dec

is that we must fight the odds.
Only to find out once we have won
That it’s too late.

(In conversation with Rakesh)