... and then the powers-that-be said, “and thou shalt hence be known as The Academically Deficient One, and by the instrument of this name thou shalt be treated as a lowly mongrel, and looked upon with suspicion wherever you go or in whatever you do, and any attempt that thee shall strive to make to clear thyself of this name shalt be trodded down upon sans mercy by us who are invested with the clout to do so.”
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
To Each His Own
Scene : High Speed Aerodynamics Laboratory, Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur, India
Players : Saumya Jain and Ashish Vashishtha
Mood : SLEEPY!!!
Saumya is working on the computer, fiddling with the Quotations page. Apparently a day to think up something profound. Picks up a Shakespeare quote and puts it across on the blog. It goes something like this...
Ashish looks at it, grows serious, and remarks with a straight face...
P.S : What an anti-climax!
Players : Saumya Jain and Ashish Vashishtha
Mood : SLEEPY!!!
Saumya is working on the computer, fiddling with the Quotations page. Apparently a day to think up something profound. Picks up a Shakespeare quote and puts it across on the blog. It goes something like this...
"It is not important to know who you are, than to have faith in what you can become."Thus satisfied, he is about to fall asleep on the keyboard when Ashish returns from MT. With an eclectic, jovial and recently-had-something-to-eat mood, Ashish comes and sits next to Saumya. Saumya, beaming from inside at his recently plagiarised quote, points out the verse to his mate.
Ashish looks at it, grows serious, and remarks with a straight face...
"A call-girl is better than a girlfriend."Silence. Ashish looks at Saumya; Saumya looks at Ashish. They laugh. Period.
P.S : What an anti-climax!
In The Arithmetic of Love ...
Henry and Melinda - Prologue
"... one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing."
This is a quote by Mignon McLaughlin, and this is the pure essence of Henry and Melinda. More chapters to come along!
"... one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing."
This is a quote by Mignon McLaughlin, and this is the pure essence of Henry and Melinda. More chapters to come along!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Walk
HENRY AND MELINDA - Chapter (Minus) Five
The market in old town was an old one, as anyone would guess. It had huge, Roman pillars and a covered space in front of the shops, much akin to Victorian architecture. Legend has it that the town designer had a inclination to include elements of architecture from major world cities in our town, and the municipal corporation five years back had gone on a record digging spree to identify these and utilise this information in adding to the town’s tourist value. As we had entered the central sidewalk of the market, a sign read, in Municipal-speak, “Welcome to Connaught Place, New Delhi, India.” I could not hold a smile back every time I saw one of these boards. It was like travelling to a new city every time I went out to town. We had a Times Square, a Colloseum and even a Sydney Harbour amongst so many others, all in this sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. However, that was beyond the point. We were here, now, going around in circles of the Connaught Circus, the three of us, while the whole world seemed to be moving against us, and she was angry. Yes, we were literally going around in circles for the past half an hour now, without ever reaching an end, or a beginning.
* * * * *
“Don’t you use that tone with me!” she hissed as we walked on. I kept up pace, trying to avoid bumping into someone, “What tone? WHAT TONE?! I am just talking to you. Where did you hear a tone? Oh and by the way, did you listen to what I was saying, or were you just too much worried about the tone?” She was getting angry by the minute, and I couldn’t make out if it was the quick walk or her anger that was making her breath so short. Her anger was still short on the fuse though, “Yeah yeah, I did listen to all that crap. You are an idiot Henry Paige. Billy, tell him he is an idiot and I don’t wanna talk to him.” Billy looked at me, gave me a smirk and said, “Henry, you are an idiot. She aint talking to you. You get that?” “Yea,” I smiled a wry one, just avoiding a protrusion jutting out from the railing along the sidewalk on which all three of us were, umm, walking. Well, no, you couldn’t call it walking; it was more like rushing, although we did not know to where or why. “Tell her I aint wanna talk to her either!” Billy found it very amusing, “Oh you guys! What am I doing here? Don’t drag me into this.” And then Billy saw me winking at him to keep playing on for her sake, so he said in a mechanical tone, “Okay Mel, he doesn’t wanna talk to you either.” He grazed past a burly man who gave him the eye and Billy was like “Oops, sorry!” I thought it was meant for the fatso, but it could also have been for Melinda who was eyeing him with equally bloodshot eyes. She was really angry, and only the Gods above know what I had done to earn that ire from her.
* * * * *
When I had woken up that morning, she was angry, and after a not-so-lovely Sunday breakfast she had called up Billy to “help us out”, and an hour later here we were, in a busy market in a crazy city of this screwball world, walking-on along the sidewalk, at the peak of Sunday, out in the sun, hustling and bustling across this sea of humanity which comes out on a holiday to do exactly the same thing. Walking, frantically trying to keep pace with each other, talking to each other and jostling with the crowd coming from upfront, avoiding as well as revelling in the sights and sounds of this world, and at the same time, discussing something which was so personal to just the two of us. The irony of it all was just too much to come to terms with all of a sudden. But yes, there I was, in the rush of things, sorting out a domestic problem in a place where I could least expect to walk straight, leave alone thinking likewise. My life couldn’t have been more dramatic or more extreme.
And this entire time one thing seemed peculiar. We were walking and it suddenly occurred to me as though all the people were only coming from the front, and it seemed odd. It was as if the three of us had been the only people headed in our direction, with the whole wide world walking to an entirely another tune. Moreover, this sea of humanity that was headed in our direction for the entire last half an hour we had been walking seemed to be surging and fading with time. It had a character of its own, the human wave I mean. It had its heaves and its bows, just like the emotional ups and downs, the pitches of her voice, the gyrations of Billy’s lanky figure to avoid bumping someone and the pace of my crazy walk. There seemed to be some sort of a synchronised dance of nature going on, and the three of us, our emotional states, even the proverbial sea of humanity all seemed to be dancing to it.
* * * * *
Why and how would Billy “help us out” I could not figure that. Billy was “my” friend and as he met Mel and time passed, he became “her” best friend. So much so, that sometimes I felt that she could keep things from me and tell him. Did this disturb me? I would honestly say yes. I am a man, programmed on an 8052 processor or its equivalent, which basically means I am very primitive and laidback. To have someone who is like your soul mate, to confide in your friend rather than yourself is a hard fact to accept. Women call it jealousy. I call it insecurity. Plain, simple and dead honest. It’s insecurity. It tells me, “Dude, she cannot tell you everything. She would choose someone else to open up to.” It makes me feel insecure, and I don’t like it. It doesn’t matter for me whom she chooses, but as long as it is not me, I am worried. Sometimes, I would wonder, how something like this could be explained, but I suppose I had attributed this to the enigmatic nature of ‘woman’kind and the old-fashioned attitude of ‘man’kind, and let that be that. (For women, I believe, have been the products of a CRAY or its computer sibling) So, Mel told me she wanted Billy to come and sort it out for us. Although outlandish the idea seemed to me, I humoured her, knowing perfectly well that Billy knew Mel enough to play on with her little game. And Billy and I knew each other too well. Nothing could disrupt that understanding between me and him.
Billy came and Mel prepared some coffee for him. I was in the other room watching a stand-up comedy show while they chatted in the kitchen. Sometimes, over the sounds of the television I could hear something from her, like a rise of her voice as Mel generally does when she gets too excited, or too angry about something, but I figured that as long as Billy is there, I don’t need to worry about my Mel. If there was anything troubling her, I had gotten her “her best friend” to sort it out for her. I needn’t do anything more. She did not tell me whatever was troubling her anyways. So the only thing I could do to help her out was to give her some space and put Billy on the job. I could watch my TV and forget about the whole episode. She had her medicine, I had mine, I figured. Then a few minutes later Billy came upto me and winked, “Let’s go out Hen'y. We are goin' shoppin'.” Without thinking twice, I put in my overcoat and walked out the door. Mel emerged a little short of two minutes after I had come out, escorted by Billy. I saw her and I lost my heart for the millionth time to the same woman. Oh my, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, even when she was in her worst mood. Something told me she was extremely sad, but I did not know what or why. I chose to play the game as she wanted, give her the time she needed, the stuff she needed, and keep a distance from her, near enough to make her feel safe and far enough to have her own space.
* * * * *
Soon, it had started raining, we were still pacing around the merry-go-round of life, with my better half been literally steaming now that she was wet too, and Billy and me keeping pace and shouting at top of our voices to make her hear. But no, Melinda Parker wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t one to listen. She kept ranting on, “Billy he is this …”, “Billy, he is that …”, “Billy, he doesn’t …” and “Billy, he always …”. Billy was as sympathetic as a friend would be, he kept comforting her all along, but no, she did not need comforting. Finally, I could handle it no more. I still don’t know if it was because I was hearing so much of “Billy”, or that I was tired of this game, or that I just had been fed up with all the idioticity, but something tugged at my spine and I spoke up. I spoke up, with such a start that I surprised even myself, while Billy just had to stop a minute and gave me a look of extreme puzzlement. He was like, “No! Henry! Don’t!” But it was too late. My gates had been opened, and they weren’t going to close till I had let it out. A lot of it had been stored away for long and over time it had coagulated and gotten thick. Today it had to come out.
“Billy, am I the only one who is wrong every time? Yes, I am the man around here, and so everything is my responsibility, and I take responsibility for everything Billy, but in the same breath I would daresay that that does not mean it is my fault Billy, let Her Highness know this.” Ah! The irony of Love. I knew perfectly well, and so did she, that we were both comfortably hearing each other, yet neither of us had any reservations about pulling poor Billy in. But I guess, he is her best friend, and if it is her who wants to involve him in this, then I have no qualms about it. I am speaking my mind out, and an audience of two makes no more difference to me than an audience of one. Moreover, a best friend is supposed to help her out, ain’t it so? Billy, heh heh, no running away from it now, I thought.
“Yes, Billy it is indeed his fault. He is such an idiot. God knows what he keeps thinking! He just thinks something up and sticks to it like an adamant kid.” At this, I smiled, and said, “Yes Billy, you see, I am the one being adamant here, and I am the one not letting go of weird notions. I am the one who is being close minded and all that. I am the one who is running around the market seething at Henry Paige for the last forty five minutes without even telling him what my problem is! Yes Billy I am the one who is an idiot!”
Mel's pace quickened, as though she wanted to get away from it all now. The crowd was relentless though. I still had to look over a couple of heads to locate where she was. I caught a glimpse of my angry angel’s face. Her cheeks were wet. It could have been due to the rain. It could have been due to the crying. The sight, and before that, thought that she was crying, stung me out of my anger. I felt an intense hate for myself. No matter what happened, no matter WHATEVER happened, I had told myself long back, those eyes will never cry. They were crying now, and it was my fault, this much I knew. The why hardly mattered over the what. I will not speak any more now, I had decided.
The rain was coming down heavily now and she had lowered her head a bit. I pushed across a few people to be walking just to the left of her as she came out with one final backlash. “Billy,” she continued, “he wouldn’t listen to me even after I have told him the same thing over and over. It’s for his own good, but he doesn’t understand, Billy.” Yes, I knew now what she was talking about. She was worried about me! All along! And yet it had been left up to me to figure this out all along! My, my, my, strange is the logic of Love. Mel’s been furious with me, for me, and it’s me who is the last person to figure it out. Beautiful. “He doesn’t work Billy. He doesn’t work to realise his potential. He gets into needless arguments, weird explanations and funny stories, but doesn’t ever work.” She was so emotional and worked up right now that she did not even realise that Billy wasn’t here with us anymore. He had long been swept away by the crowd. Must have ‘bumped into’ one of his former girlfriends I suppose, heh heh, but yeah it was just me and her and the crowd now.
She went on talking to Billy nevertheless, as I could only feel emotion welling up in me, “Billy why doesn’t he understand, he’s got to work, he’s got to succeed, he means so much to me and still he can’t do that one thing that would make him happy.” I just kept listening and walking along with her. Slowly the thick crowd seemed to dissolve. It was getting thinner and thinner as she poured her heart out. Her volume had gone down, maybe talking so much had tired her out, or maybe she had gotten more relaxed just by letting those emotions out in the open. I kept walking, listening and taking in this beautiful sight of her. Only I knew right now that there was no Billy there, and no crowd left between us. We were alone in the market. The shops were closing early because of the heavy downpour and the marketplace visitors were going back to their homes.
And then, I realised how strangely parallel it was to what we had been experiencing. After all, it was just me and her. No one else mattered. Just me, and her. Billy could only have gone a few hours with us, but after that it was me, and her. The crowd was totally external to the both of us, just me and her. No crowd, no Billy. Me and Her. And she was still walking, talking and I was still walking alongside, looking at the only woman I had ever loved and the only woman I would ever love. She was there, and she was sad, and she was slowing down, and she stopped. All that I had just realised was probably dawning in on her too. She turned around and looked at me. I was right beside her shoulder, the two of us alone, in the market, the rain coming down on us. There was no world to find fault in, no Billy to be used as a stupid excuse to talk to each other. It was just me and her in our silence, and the pitter-patter of the raindrops.
I opened my overcoat. “Melinda, you are soaking, come here.” She looked at me. I was standing there like a lovesick idiot, totally drenched myself, calling out to my beloved, the lapels of my coat opened up for her, just as my heart was at that exact moment. I was looking at her lovely face. No sight of heaven could have been more comforting than what my eyes beheld that moment in the old market of the old town we lived in. “Come, honey, let’s just go home. I am sorry.” At that, Melinda Parker, the love of my life, silently came into my overcoat and took me in an embrace. Her wet cheek touched my collar, a little to the left, and I could feel its warmth reach deep up to my heart.
* * * * *
The market in old town was an old one, as anyone would guess. It had huge, Roman pillars and a covered space in front of the shops, much akin to Victorian architecture. Legend has it that the town designer had a inclination to include elements of architecture from major world cities in our town, and the municipal corporation five years back had gone on a record digging spree to identify these and utilise this information in adding to the town’s tourist value. As we had entered the central sidewalk of the market, a sign read, in Municipal-speak, “Welcome to Connaught Place, New Delhi, India.” I could not hold a smile back every time I saw one of these boards. It was like travelling to a new city every time I went out to town. We had a Times Square, a Colloseum and even a Sydney Harbour amongst so many others, all in this sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. However, that was beyond the point. We were here, now, going around in circles of the Connaught Circus, the three of us, while the whole world seemed to be moving against us, and she was angry. Yes, we were literally going around in circles for the past half an hour now, without ever reaching an end, or a beginning.
* * * * *
“Don’t you use that tone with me!” she hissed as we walked on. I kept up pace, trying to avoid bumping into someone, “What tone? WHAT TONE?! I am just talking to you. Where did you hear a tone? Oh and by the way, did you listen to what I was saying, or were you just too much worried about the tone?” She was getting angry by the minute, and I couldn’t make out if it was the quick walk or her anger that was making her breath so short. Her anger was still short on the fuse though, “Yeah yeah, I did listen to all that crap. You are an idiot Henry Paige. Billy, tell him he is an idiot and I don’t wanna talk to him.” Billy looked at me, gave me a smirk and said, “Henry, you are an idiot. She aint talking to you. You get that?” “Yea,” I smiled a wry one, just avoiding a protrusion jutting out from the railing along the sidewalk on which all three of us were, umm, walking. Well, no, you couldn’t call it walking; it was more like rushing, although we did not know to where or why. “Tell her I aint wanna talk to her either!” Billy found it very amusing, “Oh you guys! What am I doing here? Don’t drag me into this.” And then Billy saw me winking at him to keep playing on for her sake, so he said in a mechanical tone, “Okay Mel, he doesn’t wanna talk to you either.” He grazed past a burly man who gave him the eye and Billy was like “Oops, sorry!” I thought it was meant for the fatso, but it could also have been for Melinda who was eyeing him with equally bloodshot eyes. She was really angry, and only the Gods above know what I had done to earn that ire from her.
* * * * *
When I had woken up that morning, she was angry, and after a not-so-lovely Sunday breakfast she had called up Billy to “help us out”, and an hour later here we were, in a busy market in a crazy city of this screwball world, walking-on along the sidewalk, at the peak of Sunday, out in the sun, hustling and bustling across this sea of humanity which comes out on a holiday to do exactly the same thing. Walking, frantically trying to keep pace with each other, talking to each other and jostling with the crowd coming from upfront, avoiding as well as revelling in the sights and sounds of this world, and at the same time, discussing something which was so personal to just the two of us. The irony of it all was just too much to come to terms with all of a sudden. But yes, there I was, in the rush of things, sorting out a domestic problem in a place where I could least expect to walk straight, leave alone thinking likewise. My life couldn’t have been more dramatic or more extreme.
And this entire time one thing seemed peculiar. We were walking and it suddenly occurred to me as though all the people were only coming from the front, and it seemed odd. It was as if the three of us had been the only people headed in our direction, with the whole wide world walking to an entirely another tune. Moreover, this sea of humanity that was headed in our direction for the entire last half an hour we had been walking seemed to be surging and fading with time. It had a character of its own, the human wave I mean. It had its heaves and its bows, just like the emotional ups and downs, the pitches of her voice, the gyrations of Billy’s lanky figure to avoid bumping someone and the pace of my crazy walk. There seemed to be some sort of a synchronised dance of nature going on, and the three of us, our emotional states, even the proverbial sea of humanity all seemed to be dancing to it.
* * * * *
Why and how would Billy “help us out” I could not figure that. Billy was “my” friend and as he met Mel and time passed, he became “her” best friend. So much so, that sometimes I felt that she could keep things from me and tell him. Did this disturb me? I would honestly say yes. I am a man, programmed on an 8052 processor or its equivalent, which basically means I am very primitive and laidback. To have someone who is like your soul mate, to confide in your friend rather than yourself is a hard fact to accept. Women call it jealousy. I call it insecurity. Plain, simple and dead honest. It’s insecurity. It tells me, “Dude, she cannot tell you everything. She would choose someone else to open up to.” It makes me feel insecure, and I don’t like it. It doesn’t matter for me whom she chooses, but as long as it is not me, I am worried. Sometimes, I would wonder, how something like this could be explained, but I suppose I had attributed this to the enigmatic nature of ‘woman’kind and the old-fashioned attitude of ‘man’kind, and let that be that. (For women, I believe, have been the products of a CRAY or its computer sibling) So, Mel told me she wanted Billy to come and sort it out for us. Although outlandish the idea seemed to me, I humoured her, knowing perfectly well that Billy knew Mel enough to play on with her little game. And Billy and I knew each other too well. Nothing could disrupt that understanding between me and him.
Billy came and Mel prepared some coffee for him. I was in the other room watching a stand-up comedy show while they chatted in the kitchen. Sometimes, over the sounds of the television I could hear something from her, like a rise of her voice as Mel generally does when she gets too excited, or too angry about something, but I figured that as long as Billy is there, I don’t need to worry about my Mel. If there was anything troubling her, I had gotten her “her best friend” to sort it out for her. I needn’t do anything more. She did not tell me whatever was troubling her anyways. So the only thing I could do to help her out was to give her some space and put Billy on the job. I could watch my TV and forget about the whole episode. She had her medicine, I had mine, I figured. Then a few minutes later Billy came upto me and winked, “Let’s go out Hen'y. We are goin' shoppin'.” Without thinking twice, I put in my overcoat and walked out the door. Mel emerged a little short of two minutes after I had come out, escorted by Billy. I saw her and I lost my heart for the millionth time to the same woman. Oh my, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, even when she was in her worst mood. Something told me she was extremely sad, but I did not know what or why. I chose to play the game as she wanted, give her the time she needed, the stuff she needed, and keep a distance from her, near enough to make her feel safe and far enough to have her own space.
* * * * *
Soon, it had started raining, we were still pacing around the merry-go-round of life, with my better half been literally steaming now that she was wet too, and Billy and me keeping pace and shouting at top of our voices to make her hear. But no, Melinda Parker wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t one to listen. She kept ranting on, “Billy he is this …”, “Billy, he is that …”, “Billy, he doesn’t …” and “Billy, he always …”. Billy was as sympathetic as a friend would be, he kept comforting her all along, but no, she did not need comforting. Finally, I could handle it no more. I still don’t know if it was because I was hearing so much of “Billy”, or that I was tired of this game, or that I just had been fed up with all the idioticity, but something tugged at my spine and I spoke up. I spoke up, with such a start that I surprised even myself, while Billy just had to stop a minute and gave me a look of extreme puzzlement. He was like, “No! Henry! Don’t!” But it was too late. My gates had been opened, and they weren’t going to close till I had let it out. A lot of it had been stored away for long and over time it had coagulated and gotten thick. Today it had to come out.
“Billy, am I the only one who is wrong every time? Yes, I am the man around here, and so everything is my responsibility, and I take responsibility for everything Billy, but in the same breath I would daresay that that does not mean it is my fault Billy, let Her Highness know this.” Ah! The irony of Love. I knew perfectly well, and so did she, that we were both comfortably hearing each other, yet neither of us had any reservations about pulling poor Billy in. But I guess, he is her best friend, and if it is her who wants to involve him in this, then I have no qualms about it. I am speaking my mind out, and an audience of two makes no more difference to me than an audience of one. Moreover, a best friend is supposed to help her out, ain’t it so? Billy, heh heh, no running away from it now, I thought.
“Yes, Billy it is indeed his fault. He is such an idiot. God knows what he keeps thinking! He just thinks something up and sticks to it like an adamant kid.” At this, I smiled, and said, “Yes Billy, you see, I am the one being adamant here, and I am the one not letting go of weird notions. I am the one who is being close minded and all that. I am the one who is running around the market seething at Henry Paige for the last forty five minutes without even telling him what my problem is! Yes Billy I am the one who is an idiot!”
Mel's pace quickened, as though she wanted to get away from it all now. The crowd was relentless though. I still had to look over a couple of heads to locate where she was. I caught a glimpse of my angry angel’s face. Her cheeks were wet. It could have been due to the rain. It could have been due to the crying. The sight, and before that, thought that she was crying, stung me out of my anger. I felt an intense hate for myself. No matter what happened, no matter WHATEVER happened, I had told myself long back, those eyes will never cry. They were crying now, and it was my fault, this much I knew. The why hardly mattered over the what. I will not speak any more now, I had decided.
The rain was coming down heavily now and she had lowered her head a bit. I pushed across a few people to be walking just to the left of her as she came out with one final backlash. “Billy,” she continued, “he wouldn’t listen to me even after I have told him the same thing over and over. It’s for his own good, but he doesn’t understand, Billy.” Yes, I knew now what she was talking about. She was worried about me! All along! And yet it had been left up to me to figure this out all along! My, my, my, strange is the logic of Love. Mel’s been furious with me, for me, and it’s me who is the last person to figure it out. Beautiful. “He doesn’t work Billy. He doesn’t work to realise his potential. He gets into needless arguments, weird explanations and funny stories, but doesn’t ever work.” She was so emotional and worked up right now that she did not even realise that Billy wasn’t here with us anymore. He had long been swept away by the crowd. Must have ‘bumped into’ one of his former girlfriends I suppose, heh heh, but yeah it was just me and her and the crowd now.
She went on talking to Billy nevertheless, as I could only feel emotion welling up in me, “Billy why doesn’t he understand, he’s got to work, he’s got to succeed, he means so much to me and still he can’t do that one thing that would make him happy.” I just kept listening and walking along with her. Slowly the thick crowd seemed to dissolve. It was getting thinner and thinner as she poured her heart out. Her volume had gone down, maybe talking so much had tired her out, or maybe she had gotten more relaxed just by letting those emotions out in the open. I kept walking, listening and taking in this beautiful sight of her. Only I knew right now that there was no Billy there, and no crowd left between us. We were alone in the market. The shops were closing early because of the heavy downpour and the marketplace visitors were going back to their homes.
And then, I realised how strangely parallel it was to what we had been experiencing. After all, it was just me and her. No one else mattered. Just me, and her. Billy could only have gone a few hours with us, but after that it was me, and her. The crowd was totally external to the both of us, just me and her. No crowd, no Billy. Me and Her. And she was still walking, talking and I was still walking alongside, looking at the only woman I had ever loved and the only woman I would ever love. She was there, and she was sad, and she was slowing down, and she stopped. All that I had just realised was probably dawning in on her too. She turned around and looked at me. I was right beside her shoulder, the two of us alone, in the market, the rain coming down on us. There was no world to find fault in, no Billy to be used as a stupid excuse to talk to each other. It was just me and her in our silence, and the pitter-patter of the raindrops.
I opened my overcoat. “Melinda, you are soaking, come here.” She looked at me. I was standing there like a lovesick idiot, totally drenched myself, calling out to my beloved, the lapels of my coat opened up for her, just as my heart was at that exact moment. I was looking at her lovely face. No sight of heaven could have been more comforting than what my eyes beheld that moment in the old market of the old town we lived in. “Come, honey, let’s just go home. I am sorry.” At that, Melinda Parker, the love of my life, silently came into my overcoat and took me in an embrace. Her wet cheek touched my collar, a little to the left, and I could feel its warmth reach deep up to my heart.
* * * * *
Thursday, September 20, 2007
What went wrong?
HENRY AND MELINDA - Chapter Zero.
Henry had lunch in the district court premises itself. As he was climbing down the steps of the old, Victorian building, having just been legally declared single again by a piece of paper and an old, tight lipped man who knew nothing about who he was, who "they" had been or what had gone wrong, he saw her wave to him from a tree shade near the parking lot.
Why now?, he thought. Why NOW? Isn't it over? Why now? It hasn't even been an hour! She still wants to talk? What is left to talk about after all this? He had avoided looking at her all through the proceedings, as she had avoided looking at him, they had let their lawyers take up their cases and strangle out whatever little life must have been left of their bond. He was still thinking all this, when instinctively his hand waved back at her. If this was not enough, his lips betrayed him into a smirk. She smiled back warmly.
As he stepped down the last step, she had crossed the lot and was there in front of him. She opened her arms and they hugged, and he could already feel an alienness in her, she was not his anymore. He felt awkward at touching her, hugging her, even looking at her. She is now a stranger to me, he reasoned and accepted his quirky behaviour thus.
She looked deep into his eyes and asked, "What went wrong Henry?" He just gazed at her, astounded that she could even ask him this question, amazed at her naivette and enraged at her neglect. Doesn't she know? Or maybe she genuinely didn't. Oh well, if she doesn't know, then maybe she doesn't deserve to know as well. He just gazed at her for as long as he could remember. She could gather that Henry would not be answering her question. They both wandered into each others eyes for what seemed like eternity, each hoping to get a glimpse of the other's soul. He, inquiring the nature of the query as a genuine one or a mockery of what they had just ended; She, trying to get an answer to her question and in the absence of it, a reason for the same.
Henry dropped his bag to break the silence. They were back into the world. He bent down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink sandals for one last time that he wanted to, collected his papers, stood up, looked at her curtly for one last time and said, "See you Melinda. Goodbye." And he walked up to his car and drove away. Melinda, looked at the cloud of dust of the departing car, sighed, and muttered to herself, "You should have answered that Henry, if not for me, then for yourself. You should have answered that."
That night Melinda got a note delivered to her house. It said not much, but she knew from the handwriting that it was from him. It went something like this ... "You know when I went away this afternoon, I thought, I should have answered that question. If not for you, then at least for myself I should have answered that question." Melinda smiled to herself, remembering what she had said that afternoon when Henry had gone away. Yes, little, unimportant, human, social differences will never ever change the fact that she and Henry were as close as it came to soul mates. Nothing could change how similar they would think or react to situations. It was reacting to one another, though. where they surprised themselves. Anyhow, she continued to read ... "Yes Melinda, something went wrong. I was seeing it all along, and maybe it was my mistake that I took it as another of your childish idiosyncracies and ignored it. I did have it in my mind for a long time and yes, I DID tell you on multiple occasions, but maybe you were not listening properly or I was not telling it right. You wanna know what went wrong, Melinda? I know what went wrong. It was honesty. Honesty went wrong. I was more honest than I should have been, and you were just not. Honesty went grossly wrong with us Melinda. I was bad for too much of it, and you were worse for too little. That is all.
-Love(?), Henry."
Henry had lunch in the district court premises itself. As he was climbing down the steps of the old, Victorian building, having just been legally declared single again by a piece of paper and an old, tight lipped man who knew nothing about who he was, who "they" had been or what had gone wrong, he saw her wave to him from a tree shade near the parking lot.
Why now?, he thought. Why NOW? Isn't it over? Why now? It hasn't even been an hour! She still wants to talk? What is left to talk about after all this? He had avoided looking at her all through the proceedings, as she had avoided looking at him, they had let their lawyers take up their cases and strangle out whatever little life must have been left of their bond. He was still thinking all this, when instinctively his hand waved back at her. If this was not enough, his lips betrayed him into a smirk. She smiled back warmly.
As he stepped down the last step, she had crossed the lot and was there in front of him. She opened her arms and they hugged, and he could already feel an alienness in her, she was not his anymore. He felt awkward at touching her, hugging her, even looking at her. She is now a stranger to me, he reasoned and accepted his quirky behaviour thus.
She looked deep into his eyes and asked, "What went wrong Henry?" He just gazed at her, astounded that she could even ask him this question, amazed at her naivette and enraged at her neglect. Doesn't she know? Or maybe she genuinely didn't. Oh well, if she doesn't know, then maybe she doesn't deserve to know as well. He just gazed at her for as long as he could remember. She could gather that Henry would not be answering her question. They both wandered into each others eyes for what seemed like eternity, each hoping to get a glimpse of the other's soul. He, inquiring the nature of the query as a genuine one or a mockery of what they had just ended; She, trying to get an answer to her question and in the absence of it, a reason for the same.
Henry dropped his bag to break the silence. They were back into the world. He bent down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink sandals for one last time that he wanted to, collected his papers, stood up, looked at her curtly for one last time and said, "See you Melinda. Goodbye." And he walked up to his car and drove away. Melinda, looked at the cloud of dust of the departing car, sighed, and muttered to herself, "You should have answered that Henry, if not for me, then for yourself. You should have answered that."
That night Melinda got a note delivered to her house. It said not much, but she knew from the handwriting that it was from him. It went something like this ... "You know when I went away this afternoon, I thought, I should have answered that question. If not for you, then at least for myself I should have answered that question." Melinda smiled to herself, remembering what she had said that afternoon when Henry had gone away. Yes, little, unimportant, human, social differences will never ever change the fact that she and Henry were as close as it came to soul mates. Nothing could change how similar they would think or react to situations. It was reacting to one another, though. where they surprised themselves. Anyhow, she continued to read ... "Yes Melinda, something went wrong. I was seeing it all along, and maybe it was my mistake that I took it as another of your childish idiosyncracies and ignored it. I did have it in my mind for a long time and yes, I DID tell you on multiple occasions, but maybe you were not listening properly or I was not telling it right. You wanna know what went wrong, Melinda? I know what went wrong. It was honesty. Honesty went wrong. I was more honest than I should have been, and you were just not. Honesty went grossly wrong with us Melinda. I was bad for too much of it, and you were worse for too little. That is all.
-Love(?), Henry."
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
saummy's back!
saummy's back, and back for good.
wayy back down the annals of old father time, there was a guy, studying, slogging it out for prestige. there was a saumya jain who did not care who or what. emotions was not what he was carved out for. pure performance, impeccable perfection was all he knew, and all he cared for was his goal and the means to achieve it.
soon, it changed. he fucked up.
he started noticing people around him. people with selves, with hopes, aspirations, with dreams. he started respecting that. he started learning that people need to be taken care of, attended to, loved. he started to love them. he started to see to it that they felt important. that their egos got tingled every now and then. people like that you know. he fell in love. with the whole of humanity. yes, he fell in love. with that one girl who meant the life to him. was it love? he still doesn't know. but whatever it was, it changed him, nurtured him for well over four years and brought out a side to him that he never knew he had. did it really nurture him? or was it him who was nurturing this idiotic farce that he thought was love? he had become vulnerable, he had become weak, he was pitying himself for the first time in his two decades of existence.
and then it happened again. things changed. he fucked up again.
he was never a change-happy guy. that part of his personality, ironically, had been the same since his childhood. he screwed up whenever things changed. he had the capability of screwing everything up BIGTIME. things that weren't even related to the change, got fucked up at his hands. he had lost everything once more. everything. and he went back in a shell. from his recluse he could see everyone bubbling around, moving on with their lives. he hated himself, hated the world. he hated and hated and hated. and then he slept.
he slept the whole of summers away.
it was a summer hibernation. he went to the point of no return and stay put. in his sleep, he could listen people coming up to him and try to waken him up. he wanted to, but couldn't. and then one fine day, he met a flock of angel-sisters. some of them seemed familiar, some of them were strangers. he reached out to touch them. they opened up to him. they told him their stories, as he told them his. as he heard about their pain, he realised what an ignorant fool he had been all this time. what he had was no pain at all. it was his own undoing that was lashing back at him all this time. saummy knew now what he had to do. he woke up and started working. from the depths of his heart saummy felt thankful to the angel-sisters. they had shown him how to feel love and still not corrupt his mind.
he was back.
wayy back down the annals of old father time, there was a guy, studying, slogging it out for prestige. there was a saumya jain who did not care who or what. emotions was not what he was carved out for. pure performance, impeccable perfection was all he knew, and all he cared for was his goal and the means to achieve it.
soon, it changed. he fucked up.
he started noticing people around him. people with selves, with hopes, aspirations, with dreams. he started respecting that. he started learning that people need to be taken care of, attended to, loved. he started to love them. he started to see to it that they felt important. that their egos got tingled every now and then. people like that you know. he fell in love. with the whole of humanity. yes, he fell in love. with that one girl who meant the life to him. was it love? he still doesn't know. but whatever it was, it changed him, nurtured him for well over four years and brought out a side to him that he never knew he had. did it really nurture him? or was it him who was nurturing this idiotic farce that he thought was love? he had become vulnerable, he had become weak, he was pitying himself for the first time in his two decades of existence.
and then it happened again. things changed. he fucked up again.
he was never a change-happy guy. that part of his personality, ironically, had been the same since his childhood. he screwed up whenever things changed. he had the capability of screwing everything up BIGTIME. things that weren't even related to the change, got fucked up at his hands. he had lost everything once more. everything. and he went back in a shell. from his recluse he could see everyone bubbling around, moving on with their lives. he hated himself, hated the world. he hated and hated and hated. and then he slept.
he slept the whole of summers away.
it was a summer hibernation. he went to the point of no return and stay put. in his sleep, he could listen people coming up to him and try to waken him up. he wanted to, but couldn't. and then one fine day, he met a flock of angel-sisters. some of them seemed familiar, some of them were strangers. he reached out to touch them. they opened up to him. they told him their stories, as he told them his. as he heard about their pain, he realised what an ignorant fool he had been all this time. what he had was no pain at all. it was his own undoing that was lashing back at him all this time. saummy knew now what he had to do. he woke up and started working. from the depths of his heart saummy felt thankful to the angel-sisters. they had shown him how to feel love and still not corrupt his mind.
he was back.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Monday, September 03, 2007
RKN ki Guide!
(Pre Script : This is my first attempt at dissecting a book. Please be soft on me.)
Okay, so I named it just like RGV ki AAG :) but that's where comparisons, and comedy, stops.
The Guide as a book was an exquisite piece of fiction, and the movie kept match. Well, if you haven't read the book or watched the movie, I suggest read the book first and then watch the movie. The book takes us through the life of a boy-turns-man-turns-saint and his adventures as a guide, a lover, a hoodwink, and finally as a person.
The portrayal of characters is as real as it can get. There are no black or white characters, they are all just human, having their own shares of fallibilities, weaknesses and villiany as well as our keep of fame, money and power. The protagonist, while on one hand is a gentleman, a passionate person with a zeal for life, and who also finally puts up his very survival at stake for what he himself at a point thought of as a stupid superstition. A Hero? But Wait! At the same time, he is also in love with another man's woman, elopes with her and then even lives off her talents. It even seems that he made money by cheating her in business!
The book shows us the nature of humanity. No one's proverbially 'good' and no one's proverbially 'bad'. Rosie, the woman, is a dancer. She uses her womanly charms to catch hold of this smart guide and gets rid of her old husband to whom she is supposed to be avowed for seven births. She gets him to leave his mother, gets him to make her famous, and when he has done that, wants him to go back to the old days. Aren't we all like that?
We strive for progress. We toil for success. And once we have it, we reminisce about the "good old relaxed days". Why is it so? I could not figure it out. The book told me a lot of things that showed me that it IS so, but the cause eluded me. For a long time, I pondered over this question. And then I found the answer, or at least something that left me with some sort of satisfaction. I still haven't gotten the "Why" but just read on what I got, and you'll know why the "why" doesn't bother me anymore.
Oddly enough, the solution (or something like it, as I have already mentioned) came from the movie version of the book. Its a song that the movie opens with, and here are the lyrics. I would like to try an English version of it, but till then, let's just keep it to this itself.
This was sung by S. D. Burman in his oh-my voice. Here's a video link.
Yeah, so that was that. I don't know if I made a lot of sense, but heck, it makes sense to me. :)
Okay, so I named it just like RGV ki AAG :) but that's where comparisons, and comedy, stops.
The Guide as a book was an exquisite piece of fiction, and the movie kept match. Well, if you haven't read the book or watched the movie, I suggest read the book first and then watch the movie. The book takes us through the life of a boy-turns-man-turns-saint and his adventures as a guide, a lover, a hoodwink, and finally as a person.
The portrayal of characters is as real as it can get. There are no black or white characters, they are all just human, having their own shares of fallibilities, weaknesses and villiany as well as our keep of fame, money and power. The protagonist, while on one hand is a gentleman, a passionate person with a zeal for life, and who also finally puts up his very survival at stake for what he himself at a point thought of as a stupid superstition. A Hero? But Wait! At the same time, he is also in love with another man's woman, elopes with her and then even lives off her talents. It even seems that he made money by cheating her in business!
The book shows us the nature of humanity. No one's proverbially 'good' and no one's proverbially 'bad'. Rosie, the woman, is a dancer. She uses her womanly charms to catch hold of this smart guide and gets rid of her old husband to whom she is supposed to be avowed for seven births. She gets him to leave his mother, gets him to make her famous, and when he has done that, wants him to go back to the old days. Aren't we all like that?
We strive for progress. We toil for success. And once we have it, we reminisce about the "good old relaxed days". Why is it so? I could not figure it out. The book told me a lot of things that showed me that it IS so, but the cause eluded me. For a long time, I pondered over this question. And then I found the answer, or at least something that left me with some sort of satisfaction. I still haven't gotten the "Why" but just read on what I got, and you'll know why the "why" doesn't bother me anymore.
Oddly enough, the solution (or something like it, as I have already mentioned) came from the movie version of the book. Its a song that the movie opens with, and here are the lyrics. I would like to try an English version of it, but till then, let's just keep it to this itself.
Wahaan kaun hai tera, musaafir, jaayega kahaan?
Dam lele ghadi bhar, ye chhaiyaan, paayega kahaan?
Beet gaye din, pyaar ke palchhin,
Sapna bani woh raaten...
Bhuul gaye woh, tu bhi bhula de,
Pyaar ki woh mulaaqaaten.
Sab door andhera, musaafir jaayega kahaan?
Koi bhi teri, raaha naa dekhe,
Nain bichhaaye naa koi...
Dard se tere, koi naa tadpa
Aankh kisi ki naa royi.
Kahe kisko tu meraa, musaafir jaayegaa kahaan?
Ho musaafir, tu jaaye-gaa kahaan?
Kahate hai gyaani, duniya hai faani,
Paani pe likhi likhaayi...
Hai sabki dekhi, hai sabki jaani,
Haath kisike naa aayi.
Kuchh teraa naa meraa, musaafir jaayegaa kahaan?
This was sung by S. D. Burman in his oh-my voice. Here's a video link.
Yeah, so that was that. I don't know if I made a lot of sense, but heck, it makes sense to me. :)
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Tongue-in-cheek?
Aloo ke paranthe.
Tawa Pizza.
Mooli ki bharwa roti.
Butter Toast.
Daal Baati.
Moong ki daal ki khichdi.
Makhani Daal.
Dahi Bhalle.
Besan ka Chilla.
Aate ka halwaa.
Thanda Mathha.
Sem ki sabzi.
Aaye Haaye.
I'm at home, and my tummy is in tummy heaven. :)
The tongue can't leave the cheek though!
Tawa Pizza.
Mooli ki bharwa roti.
Butter Toast.
Daal Baati.
Moong ki daal ki khichdi.
Makhani Daal.
Dahi Bhalle.
Besan ka Chilla.
Aate ka halwaa.
Thanda Mathha.
Sem ki sabzi.
Aaye Haaye.
I'm at home, and my tummy is in tummy heaven. :)
The tongue can't leave the cheek though!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Was it you?
Was it you or was I dreaming?
***
the late phone call at night
the stupid idiotic worthless fight
the million lines of online chat
talking about anything, everything, this n that
and then came the time, the first meeting
seeing you was enough, the rest was fleeting
the one when i became deaf and dumb
you saw me trembling, actually i was numb!
the bangles and the sarees, all that too,
was i dreaming or was it really you?
***
it wasn't you, now i have known
everything was a dream, all of my own
it was a picture that i had drawn
it was a dream that is now gone
it was a silly heart and a stupid man
doing and thinking only what stupid things can
its not your fault, you never knew
heh 'cause for me "you" were not you
from the outside, in the mold you fitted right in
but the silly me forgot to look within
you weren't her, umm maybe close
but just not her, the one that i chose
that doesnt send the real you any afar
you're a wonderful girl just as you are
but i'm a simple man and thus i opine
couldn't want something that was never mine
it wasn't you, i was dreaming all along
and then i heard the Pope singing his song
"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned"
the reverie is over, the dream is gone
but just don't yet talk about moving on.
***
the late phone call at night
the stupid idiotic worthless fight
the million lines of online chat
talking about anything, everything, this n that
and then came the time, the first meeting
seeing you was enough, the rest was fleeting
the one when i became deaf and dumb
you saw me trembling, actually i was numb!
the bangles and the sarees, all that too,
was i dreaming or was it really you?
***
it wasn't you, now i have known
everything was a dream, all of my own
it was a picture that i had drawn
it was a dream that is now gone
it was a silly heart and a stupid man
doing and thinking only what stupid things can
its not your fault, you never knew
heh 'cause for me "you" were not you
from the outside, in the mold you fitted right in
but the silly me forgot to look within
you weren't her, umm maybe close
but just not her, the one that i chose
that doesnt send the real you any afar
you're a wonderful girl just as you are
but i'm a simple man and thus i opine
couldn't want something that was never mine
it wasn't you, i was dreaming all along
and then i heard the Pope singing his song
"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned"
the reverie is over, the dream is gone
but just don't yet talk about moving on.
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