Time !!!

I am afraid of Time. Not because it stole my loved ones, and is stealing those to whom my life is grateful. Time is not up for me; it stands in my way in my every endeavor, every time. People believe aging fighting it is experience. It is too much of a measure for me. And I am tired of this adventure.

I am afraid because it is the sum of all forces acting against me. I am afraid because it makes me believe in extra-terrestrial ideologies. Yet I will stay, I will win. I have got my faculty - volatile memory.

I begin (again???).

When Lips Don't Touch....!!!

I am infuriated. I feel the strength of a mammoth in temper. I am wild and rampant.

My eyes squeeze blood. I see everything red.
My biceps expose pulpy veins.
My teeth can grind and crush solid iron balls.
I am so enraged that I can drink molten metal.
I am in an uncontrollable state. Can kill anybody......even myself !

She refused a kiss........mine and hers.

Living For A Life !!!

Days become nights. Nights become days.
And the time seems like a twinkle.
No time to live a life.

I do not want coir beds. It is enough if I could see the stars, real and twinkling, when I lay back. A hay bundle enough for my back. I do not want to reach the stars; enough if I am able to admire the moon's beauty from here. Enough if I could honestly smile for the sea breeze, play with the beach sand.

I do not want to earn for what I do not want to buy, what I am trying to stay away from. Enough money for a day's food for two. I do not want a wife who nags up until the time of my funeral. I neither want one who is always under the pursuit to keep my sexual sense under her control. I do not want one who feels my aspirations is like an undesirable topic during sex.

Enough if I could squeeze a drop of tear to (en)lighten myself for a kid's smile. Enough I could atleast nod for a good note if not sing or play. I do not want to write poems, speak literature, groom language and such; enough if able to appreciate them.

I do not want a lot of company; enough if I have a few friends. Enough if they honestly share. Enough if I have a walk paved with our memories.

Not want a world, not want to be in a world that says my wants are too much. But just want to live a life......mine and mine alone, but not alone.

The Lonely Protagonist !!!

Nobody say to cheers. Nobody to ask what, why ? Nobody to ask why he is holding his tears ? Nobody to ask why his tears are precious ? Nobody to listen to what betrayal is. Nobody to respect his dirt ? Nobody. Always a company of three.............Himself, His glass and the Almighty DRINK. The drops that did not get tasted are more cursed than Him.

A Reason To Live !!!

She was wearing a red dress. The red was so true that the late evening light could not steal away the colour. Her fair colour was backing the red. She shone like white gold subsiding the moon light. The breeze flew in to and fro direction trying every chance to touch her on the face, on every exposed part of her body. The waves were trying to reach out and touch her feet....atleast. She too was sitting with pride exposing her feet as if challenging the waves. The sweet smile on her face and the kisses were for the kids around. The sand.............it was with me, all over, not noticed at all, suppressed in the dark, and yet bearing her. I wish I was the wave. I wish I was the breeze. I wish I was one of the kids.

If a nail could be beautiful, it is hers. I watched every strand of her hair. I was watching and envying every damn thing that she was with. I was just there beside her - admiring and unnoticed. She is my goddess. I live to be hers.

Morale - Yesteryear Gifts !!!

Seems good times were long ago. Even a struggle is something prior to a good time. These years - they are fully empty, and life just is going on. Some of the lessons that the past good years left for me:-

This year I have met with all joy and sorrow, success and failure, friendship and hostility. All the way this year, even met with the vulgar things in my life. Yet I have always thought and practiced to be right and do right. I can survive and succeed with such thoughts. I shall come out of the hell of the things stopping me. I shall win. I swear I won't stop until I reach my destiny. My mistakes, my sentiments or my emotions do not contribute anything to my destiny. Only my urge, my efforts!

Success in my life has begun.

---

Pains and pleasures are the important and equal part of life. They are meaningless without one another. If there is no pain, we cannot EXPERIENCE pleasure. Pains are not pains; they are troubles neither.They are tests to make our head work. Pains mold us and make us acquainted with all parts of life. I have learned to accept pain. Because I DO NOT WANT TO TASTE THE FRUIT WITHOUT CLIMBING THE TREE.

But pains alone slow down the pace in our lives. So let God, henceforth, give me the power to win all the obstacles in life. Let the year and years ahead shower me with the grace of God, give me a healthy body, stable clear mind with pleasant and pure thoughts, and all powers to win future endeavors.

Praying for a peaceful world altogether.

---

A span of 365 days (and also every day spent) teaches a person something very useful to his life. I had lived a proud life; taking too much pride of my health, forgetting the ways to keep it safe. This span in my life has taught and warned me to be safe with health. I always was proud of my qualification and profession, neglecting the thoughts of a jobless life. This span has taught me how to be patient and inert in the worst times, and how to bear the disturbances from the society and surrounding. What I was taught, what I have learned is my armour for the life ahead. Bless me!

The Drought !!!

Am I going to die on the streets ?
Will not I not be dying on the arms of my girl with the last few drops of precious tears in our eyes ?
Am I not going to meet her in this birth ? Won't I not talk to her of me, and listen to her with care and awe ?
Are those forests and beaches going to be uninhabited forever ? Aren't we going to be Adam and Eve ?
Am I not going to feel the resonance with her ?
I seem to be immortal suffering this pain.

Who is listening ? I am trying to communicate. I am thinking for long.
Even words betray me. I fail to quote.
Words that I fail to utter die; words that fail to express my longing are once again cremated. I am forgetting expressions. I am forgetting to write. I am losing my ink.

She remains, and reminds !!!

In Memory Of The Pleasant Days !!!

I hear heavy engines whirring. I hear them close to my ears. I am going to fly. Fly at great heights above the clouds. And fly away into a future which does not tell me if I will ever return. So now is the last of those volatile moments to enjoy the things I am going to miss.

 

I will no more be a democratic man. I will no longer experience true moments of freedom and the pride of exercising it. And for a long time, I will not be breathing fresh air, and will be paying for pure water. No more cool unpolluted breeze. No more self-analysing self-realising calm walks in the lonely evenings. No more ME.

I will give up my black coffee addiction after tonight. I will miss manoeuvering all my favorite cars (ofcourse rented) on the solid roads laid years ago forever. I will no more climb up more than 20 floors. End of the downtown season. I am going to miss flirting the cat eyed teen age girls on the street. Streets that are always parallel and aligned. Streets that are full of shops that never throw garbage. Shops that stock best wines at cheap rates. Shops that offer discounts for beers every week. But after tonight, I will have to stop drinking. The half one on my desk is the last of the best ones, my favorite - Gordon Biersch 'Marzen'.

From now on, there are going to be only sparse thoughts about my dream girl. I am going to miss the longings I have been suffering. I am going to miss the Fight Club.

Will this list ever end ? It is true that I am going to miss these and much more.
But I am flying to those who have missed me for a long long time.

{For The Passed Moment On The Night Of September 20}

Untouched Corners !!!

I remember......I heard this song, and it made me lose myself. Today, I read something; it completely blind folded me and left me somewhere, a place well known to me but not visited often. A place where music is only for one's ears, and light only for one's eyes. My vocabulary begs to describe the place I was taken to. Despite the heavenly aura, the place was distressing, disturbing and painful; a pain one would want to suffer.

There are these 'untouched corners' in all of us.......atleast me. It is a place not acquainted with all the time; not with all, not even self. A place where dreams are not to dream but to fulfill. A place so exquisite and pleasant or deadly and diabolical, the boundaries defined by the limits one take it to. My corner is an uninhabited one. It is just the two of us.

Until these days, my corners were a place to visit. She was mischievous enough to touch these corners....often. I do not know if it was my addiction or hers. And now, I live there.

Silence is the music.
Time and tide is still. The only thing running is my tears.
I do not age nor die. I just, AM........waiting for her.

Waiting To Propose !!!

I sat here on my penny-worth chair at my balcony for a 'little-alone' time. My sight is blurring......It is smoggy all around. I am no more sitting, I am just laying there, as if burned down. Ouch...............my fingers scorch. I hurl my hand with sluggish reflex, and one more fire bud flies to the bunch of others in the trash. The fire buds are still alive, including the last one that flew from my hand. The fire buds speak of the anger in me; Each fire bud reminds of a flower rejected by one of them to whom I did not have the courage to propose. And they lay there...............withered.........and reddened.

The last one that flew was for her.
Will that bud ever die ?
It will tell her that I am still waiting, still looking for her !!!

I can see the smog now, clearly. The smog is smoke, and I lay in my chair as if I have been shot in the mouth.

Thodi Raagam !!!

My humble prayers to Isis for showering me with good words
to write down my suffering. It is the only way I can have it
shared.

I am not afraid of joining the Fight Club. It is the interval between now, every now, and the moment I become a part of it. Until then, I know her exotic long hair will sway over my face. Yet I have not seen her face. I know I will be hypnotised like every time by the fragrance and touch of her soft skin. I know I have to be with her.......without her !!!

I fantasize her - passionately and widly. Her long black hair is smooth and flows like silk. Every time it flows over my face, I let go myself. My coarse hands shiver, losing their skill, when they trace her soft skin. Anytime I close my eyes, I see us always embraced - holding her softly like a proposing flower. She whipers in my ear with a smile wanting something. Her voice echoes inside me. At times, I have found it hard to distinguish if I am thinking or hearing. I can spare time and life if I could lay for more time beside her. It is the green(est) plains and I lay beside her caressing, while she smiles at the sky. That is her diplomatic way of provoking me. The soft breeze carries the fresh dew and they fall undisturbed on her lips. I touch her lips, they are cold and soft. I kiss them..............with my eyes closed; they overflow with tears. It is like a revelation of life. There is nothing but nothingness all around us. And there we lay frozen ............with our lips in conversation.

I am being tormented without her. It is a suffering - thinking about her, being engaged with her all time and not knowing if she is just a dream. I wonder why are dreams called so ? To me, it does not matter whether dreams happen. I am convinced if they elate me to the heights I dream of. So I treat them very real. Yet I am in the dream world. I could not make explicable meaning of these fantansies. These fantasies are a manifestation of a much great emotion inside me. Truly.......it is LUST. I could not find any other way to express it. If lust is sin, so be it; I am already suffering the punishment. Perhaps, my suffering will heal if spoken than written. And any way I try, my words are not going to sound poetic and genuine for a consoling pat. They sure may sound unorthodox and vulgar, and I am afraid of my suffering being ignored juvenile when shared. But pathetic.......I am an orphaned friend. So my fantasies shall remain as troubling thoughts inside me.

There are two kinds of men - those who give more love and those who always want more love. To be either of the two, I need HER. I realise that the Fight Club is an excuse, an escape, an inscrutable reflection of my sadness over missing her. And these fantasies are an evidence. Until the day, she comes out of the dream to my arms, I shall keep writing elegies of my unrequited longing. I shall write of the sleepless nights I sleep with her, the caressing, the momentary blood clots that my coarse hands make on her tender body. I shall write words wounded by the fragrance of her breadth. I shall write to discharge the unbearable suffocation. I cannot endure to have it all left unsaid.

Until the day I unite with her, I am cursed to bear the heat. I am cursed with lust. Hence, I wander......Ohh 'MY LOVE', where art thou ?

I am in LOVE !!!

A few words before I lay on my bed to feel the painful solitude !!!

Solitude is not the feeling of loneliness when there is nobody, but everybody. Solitude is not chosen but ultimately left with. Solitude is not exclusion but retreat without your conscious consent. Solitude is not sweet pain but agony. Solitude is not for sharing with others, it is only for you. Solitude is your feelings in prison, however poetic and genuine they are.

Solitude is being in love with a nobody and expecting it for the rest of your life. I am in love !!!

The Fight Club !!!

Silence Prevails..............so silent that the photons rushing in the through the window, like raging soldiers, can be heard. Disturbed by the high acoustics, I struggle not to open my sticky eye lashes. Like the soldiers with their shining swords, the photons attack my eyes and I can see them attack even with my eyes closed. I cry a dull tired 'Ummmmmhhhhhhh'. It is 9:00....9:30 - No, not 10:00 - in the morning. It is still silent. I wake up or somebody wakes me up. The light now seems to flow in like silk and is mute; although I imagine hearing melancholic notes of a violin from the farthest in my house - I am awake and in a conscious state. I wonder if the light made the sound to wake me up.

The birds on the trees got tired chirping and had flown away. The morning dew is now hot. And probably there won't be any children on the streets. It is not but seems to be mid day. And now all that is going to happen for the rest of the day is the curse on me. The pain of the curse is knowing the future of the day, and the future has been the same way for a long time I know. There is no 'future' in the day.

I do not remember if I brushed my teeth but I remember standing before the mirror. Was it yesterday ? I do not know if the days run slow or fast. They are not interesting, not worth remembering. I know I will hear a gushing sound of the shower water now or a short while from now. Oh I hear it now, and it sounds the same way like yesterday and like many many days before yesterday. The water hisses like a snake, and each droplet jumps from the nozzle smoothly like divers with open hands, floats and flies like a bird, and pitches on my face and shoulders. The water is warm. I no more greet the pitch of the first droplet with a unstoppable smile. I no more experience the comfort of my body. My strained muscles have stopped relaxing for the warm water. They have become lifeless. I feel like a lotus leaf. Sometimes, I stand staring at the water coming out of the shower nozzle. I still cannot guess what gets me out of the deliquium. I do not remember ever starting the day without a step in the shower, or the shower getting dried out.

If the breakfast is ready by the time I dress up and the shower tap stops ticking, would that break the monotonous mornings ? I guess.......it should. Because I know I am going to pour the milk on my white bowl, top it with the corn flakes or oat meal. I tried skipping breakfast a few times to make a difference. It made a big difference - bad breadth most times and I fainted twice. When I have a great battle to fight for the rest of the day, a difference in the breakfast would not make much of a difference. Despite that, I try to make things a lit different in the kitchen, and it strikes late for my polar express (train) to catch.

I have stopped responding to my senses that tell me I am getting late for the train. I deliberately hold up rushing and watch the suburban train on the bridge not wait for me. Ohhh.....I pity the train operator. How many times will he have to drive the same damn thing, over and over, over the same rail from hither to yonder and yonder to hither. Will he be cursed too ? Or does he sleep while the train goes on the rail ? No, he does not. Then how does the train stop for people waiting to board or to get off ? I expect my boarding station to be "Under Construction" or bombed. I expect that today there won't be any leaves rustling there, that sound like the scratch of a blunt blade. I expect a lot of people happily chatting with each other while they wait for the train. I expect to meet a good travel friend. I expect to see the most beautiful girl on the train or at the next approaching station. I expect to say hi to her, and flirt with her wildly. I expect a free ride from my drop off point to the office. I expect somebody to shoot an album with me while I walk to office. Nothing happens, nothing like that has happened yet. The train white in color for as long as I remember has not faded, has never been late, and has never waited for me or anyone even for a second. And I walk to office, imaging an album being shot.........I realise I am humming a good melody, I hum aloud, foreign sounds in a foreign land.

Well, the rest of the day does not work well. I have a job but I do not have any (interesting) work. Work is not what you are made to do but you do. At work, I am like a lone banyan tree in a vast hay field. Sometimes I just sit gazing, completely lost, and fall in a different kind of deliquium that leaves me in a state of imagination. When I get out of it, it would almost be the time when cars on the streets start racing in the opposite direction. I realise it is evening. I start home for no one waiting for me. Then it is time for the polar express story again.

The sun rests after its tiresome day. And i am tired for no reason. I want to rest but am restless. A few hours run along, and it is the night. My dark room is like an empty sky. And my confused mind fills it with incomprehensible thoughts. I fight my thoughts, and feel asleep (sleep ?) late fighting them. I am living like the dead. I feel no pain any more. My senses are struggling to get liberated, to function. But they are numb because of the 'everyday'. I wish to get angry at somebody, yell at them. I wish to get beaten. I wish to lay stray on the streets, drunken. I wish to ride a horse. I wish to laugh aloud. I wish to cry. I wish to sleep in a car on the top of a mountain. I wish to swim in the cold sea. I wish for my portrait. Would such feelings make my senses function ? I pray, not God, for something that would give life to my life.

I feel something now. I feel a change in the pace in my heart. What if this sick lifeless hopeless man gets a girl for his own and his only ? Perhaps, the love and warmth of a woman could take the boredom out of my life. What if she knows that spell ? What if she knows how to cuddle me but preserve my tears ? What if she could blow my heavy sleepless eyes softly and put them to sleep ? What if she could fight the photons for me, and instead wake me up with the most beautiful sight - her grace, her charm. What if she makes me cough many times in the day while I am away from her ? What if she waits for me in the evenings in her black dress, fallen hair, a red rose, fragrant candles, and a hidden drop of tear and trust in her eye for this hopeless man who in real is just born to live ? Yes, I hope that a girl could lighten up my life. I hope I would get the urge to live the day. I hope my life would make some sense. I imagine her, and I feel blessed and peaceful by her sanctity. Well, then is she there ? Will she be mine ?

I fear she never comes. I fear I will go mad. I fear these good thoughts will cease , and I will end up in the kingdom of boredom. What do I do ? So I imagine broken teeth. I imagine cruel fiery eyes, blacked out. I imagine my beard wet with beer bubbles. I imagine blood in my hands, on my wear, and in my mouth. I imagine a lot of people around me like that. I imagine Tyler Durden. I imagine FIGHT CLUB !!!

The Finally Published Touches My Heart !!!

Enough of the hibernation; I was not lazy but busy. And something, no someone, broke me from the inertia. Well, this note is about 'someone'. All say that man is the distinct creature in the universe because of his ability to think. But I would say he is distinct and superior than all known and unknown beings because of his ability to feel and to emote.

Read Poornima Vijayan and know what I mean. The brilliant expression of her feelings is the one of the finest contemporary writings I have read. The writing is very different and unique. It is not that usual loquacious or verbose content made decorative, which diverts the reader from the crux with the most intricate details of anything and everything. Instead, there is LIFE in the words. Also, there is an inspiring remarkable picture in every post to match the mood. Ohhhhh.......that one is fantastic, genius !!!

The pride and the (soft) arrogance in the manner of her expressions ironically will make you intimate with the mood as if you feel them and will compel you to think about the rest of her. Women of such a quality have always been of immense interest to men. So I got interested to write about it this time. I doubt if this advertisement is unwanted and preposterous but I will consider myself forgiven for she herself says "I Finally Publish", and this small note of appreciation be treated a review of the published.

Do not forget to peek out to know what she is thinking now......

Which One Shall I Buy ???

I am too much obsessed with searching to buy myself The Laptop. I have been now searching late nights and long weekends. My first requirement is that I need a 15.x inch Non-widescreen display where x >= 0. I feel that a wide screen display makes the laptop too big.

I have come down to these three models [preference in order of appearance] after doing some research, but I am feeling very difficult to choose which one to buy.

1. Dell Latitude D520
Reasons preventing me to buy:
Does not have a SD card reader
Does not seem to have a fire wire slot [not sure]
Is it ok media wise ?

2. HP Pavilion 6000t
Reasons preventing me to buy:
No idea of quality of HP laptops
Widescreen ???
Heard that the customer support is very poor

3. Dell Inspiron E1505
Reasons preventing me to buy:
Seems very very huge
Widescreen
Much Much heavier than the other two

Help me out in choosing the better model and correct me if the reasons preventing me to buy one of the above is incorrect.

Assumptions [Not required to mention at all]:

For programming, internet surfing and little of media
Good Performance, in any way you can imagine
Intel Core 2 Duo
2GB RAM
HDD Capacity >= 120GB
DVD/CD RW
Want to enjoy VISTA
IEEE FireWire Slot
USB Slots
LAN connection Slot
Bluetooth
WiFi
Total cost including buying paper towels for the manufacturer <= 1400 [Ok, negotiable]
No Toshiba and No IBM [I hate them brutally]

Hope I am not greedy or a miser.
Anyway, Thanks In Advance !!!

A Walk !!!

After many many days, I enjoyed the evening walk. It has been days, may be more than a month that I started home from office in the early evening when the sun sets. I was feeling desperate to walk home in the dimming sunlight singing an evening song.

It is about a mile walk from office to the suburban light rail station. A mile walk full things to see and smile for yourself. It isn't dramatically vista studded walkway but there is this very humongous mountain range before you, beside you, behind you as you walk. The way the mountain changes its colors time to time and day to day is an invaluable piece of inspiration for me. You see it brown mid noon when the clouds hover above it for rest. You see them green in the evening. You see them mysteriously red-black at dawn. Without any reason, it seems to talk to me and touch my inner self. Well, that gives me company when I walk. I had that company today after a long time.

When you walk the way to the light rail station, you are privileged to walk the red carpet of technology. You walk by the boundaries of some of the giants in the IT industry. And there are hundreds of them around. You can take chance to think of the future where you do not need to walk at all. But I did not think of anything of the future today when I walked beside them cuz I was missing a walk.

I reminded myself that cars raced around from every corner this time of the day. When I saw them pass by me like a flash of lightning, I reminded myself that I counted them. I counted them by Benzs, Beemers and Corevettes. It was fun and my hobby. And when Beemers pass by me, I felt the soft gust that they sway on me, and long before I open my eyes back to see if they are 5xx or 3xx, they are gone far away racing towards the west to touch the sun at the horizon. I had the same fun today. I watched the Beemer pass by me to catch the sun at the horizon before it sets.

Today I walked by the green grass on the pavements and the I saw them greener. I guess that they too missed me for a while and perhaps increased a bit of contrast in their color showing off their joy seeing me, cuz I never stamp on them on the walkway. So did the yellow flowers on the wasteland ranch a few furlong from the light rail station. The yellow flowers are not daffodils. They are like the Picasso on the New York street, nameless and beautiful. They shine like gold in the evening. They are born every spring after winter on that wasteland. And they nod heads like daffodils to all passersby. But they know me well.

It is a feeling of freedom that I enjoy when I walk. I let my garbage thoughts fume out and let myself free and light like the air. Well, that was the entertainment I have been missing these days. When the sun was out ruling the sky, I had been in the office cave hiding like a vampire. I advised myself not to reason for missing a simple walk. As always, I hate monotony. And having a walk everyday will not make me feel monotonous cuz neither do I see the same girl on the road nor is the mountain green each day. It is the unexpected change and presentation on the walkway that entertains and inspires me.

The Saddist !!!

Time is a saddist. It will make you await the moment you have been expecting, sucking up all your energy. And the moment goes away just like that, and it becomes past very easily like all that happened happened ages back or was a dream. Nobody can guess whether time runs fast or slow.

I am at the airport now. I cannot say if I have been waiting for the moment to fly to the US, though I have to. But time had made me blind until before this moment. When I open my eyes now, I am sitting in an air plane ready to fly to a place far far across the oceans and from where my loved ones cannot hear me. Time did not let me learn that.

Let me close my eyes now, and when I wake up.........

Happy Valentine's Day !!!

I was thinking every now and then from the morning about the opening words for this post cuz this is a special post on a special day. I was sure how to end it, of course, with a "Happy Valentine's Day". Considered to be a very special day for those with mates, it is on the contrary a day of mourning for those still holding rose in hand.

That was not the special beginning I wanted to give for the post. Anyway, I have started. A general important information about the day I would like share is that it is a day for spreading an air of compassion. It is not the way it means now. I cannot wake Saint Valentine and present him for verdict.

Anyway, my wishes for a good time for all those with mates (girlfriends). And for those who are still holding a rose with hope, enjoy the day with the verses from Mahakavi Bharathiyar:-

¢î¢îè¢ è¬óò¤ù¤«ô -- ªîø¢° ͬôò¤ô¢
ªêí¢ðèî¢ «î£ì¢ìî¢î¤«ô,
𣣢î¢î¤¼ï¢ î£ô¢õ¼«õù¢ -- ªõí¢í¤ô£õ¤«ô
ð£é¢è¤«ò£ ªìù¢Áªê£ù¢ù£ò¢.
õ££¢î¢¬î îõø¤õ¤ì¢ì£ò¢ -- Ü® èí¢íñ¢ñ£!
ñ££¢¹ ¶®è¢°î¯!
𣣢î¢î õ¤ìî¢î¤ªôô¢ô£ñ¢ -- àù¢¬ù𢠫ð£ô«õ
ð£¬õ ªî£¤»î¯!

«ñù¤ ªè£î¤è¢°î¯ -- î¬ô ²ø¢ø¤«ò
«õî¬ù ªêò¢°î¯!
õ£ù¤ ô¤ìîªòô¢ô£ñ¢ -- Þï¢î ªõí¢í¤ô£
õ ¶ð££¢.
«ñ£ùî¢ î¤¼è¢°î¯ -- Þï¢î ¬õòèñ¢
Íö¢è¤î¢ ¶ò¤ô¤ù¤«ô
ù£¼õù¢ ñ좮½ñ¢ -- 𤣤ªõù¢ð«î£ó¢
ïóèî¢ ¶ö½õ«î£?

From nowhere in this world will you get such words of love and pain it causes. And ironically, the words are the consolation themselves, and you can rejoice with that this day. So Happy Valentine's Day, and spread compassion.

The Scary Shock !!!

Finally I was sitting amongst other people in the air craft who seemed to be punished by time like me. I cannot say what was running in my mind. I remember thinking of my baggage to be safely delivered. I also remember thinking if there would be very good looking air hostess this time or not, and will I get a chance to flirt with them. And at times when I happened to look out of the window, I was wondering about the aerodynamic air craft wing, science and technology.

When I was air borne, I had a few rounds of white sweet wine before having my midnight dinner. I felt happy and my spirits were flying as high as the air craft, and was singing too. And I felt asleep like a baby. I do not remember what I was dreaming.

Like a heavy thunder striking the earth crust, like an electric shock fed to the sensitive part of the body, I was thrown out of the dream; not awake yet. I could sense only the shock, the thrust and nothing else. I was feeling cold, shrunk and painful. My fingers and hands seemed to be frozen and crumpled, my tongue seemed to be falling out of my mouth and my eyes were rolling to the inside of the cavity. And everything that I felt made me feel as if I was being hanged out of the air plane. I felt like a cripple, I felt epileptic. My spine was transmitting the shock to the entire part of my body, head to toe, through every nerve.

It took me a while and great strain to get to my conscious and when I opened my eyes, the air craft was half dark. I do not know if the passengers beside me noticed what I was going through. If they had taken a look at my face or hands, it would have been a nightmare for them. It is another nightmare for me when I try to guess what was that happened to me and why ?

The Godmother !!!

It takes great effort and great courage to lead a life of truth. That is one of the invaluable things that I learnt from the old lady in the picture. And it is all her optimistic state of being that has given hope and strength to her family. Even when there were hurdles and pain of all sorts all around her, she has led the life of a perfect wife, a noble mother [bless the kids], a humble relative and the mother of many hungry workers and the motherless. For those of us who knew her, she is an icon.

She takes great pride in being the president of all the homely proceedings, be it any auspicious day or a festival or a marriage in her family tree. Never is it a festival if she does not wake up with all those sacred creatures of the Hindus. And when you open your eyes, there is eternity everywhere, first with a cup of fresh coffee followed by a humble command to all to take a shower in the snowless freezing early morning with the water warm enough to stretch your nerves and your chest against the cold cold morning.

You should see her prayer room and for a tiniest of the unit of time, you will wink your eyes to check if it is really the Lord amidst those pious oil/ghee lamps she had decorated or is it just the idol. She is very devotional, very proud and stubborn of the customs, rituals and rites. After having the divine conversation with God, she then distributes the edible blessings so piously as if she got that from God Himself. For the whole of the scene, I keep smiling watching her and wonder that this uneducated innocent woman unknowningly is contributing to save the identity of the Hindu and his land.

Even at this ripened age, she thinks energetic. I wonder if she draws her energy from the Sun. And when you call her up anytime and chat with her - "What is special ?". She says "Nothing but everything is special". Well, i do not know if you believe that words do magic. Well, they have done and do when she says that. My strength and happiness doubles on hearing those words. For any other person, they may be just fake words made up for consoling, but to me they are the words of an honest bold old woman who carries a load of experience of the experiments that Truth has tried on her and a woman who has never failed. And so i have great concern for those words.

That old woman is my granny, the Godmother of our family tree. After almost an year of hunt in search of knowledge and wealth far far away from home, this young man is going to shake hands with her. I believe she will understand from the hand shake that neither the wealth nor the knowledge I hunted will ever equal her wealth of virtues and her love for me. I am awaiting to feel the bliss of seeing her empty mouth open wide with a big smile, bigger than the crescent of the quarter moon, on seeing me.

At times, she makes me feel like a child - helpless, and I curse God for Mortality.