The Journey home..

Day 5 Trivandrum-->Hyderabad-->Delhi

I leave tomorrow. Its my first direct TVM-->HYD trip. A year back Hyderabad called me unawares and I became the resident of that city; and left it one fine day. I shall see again the familiar roads and a familiar man. A man who's as lost as I'm and who's as confused. We meet each other after a long time. I learned just one thing from this city; No money is worth my peace of mind. I learned many things from this man. Hence I again visit the city and the man. The city to pay my homages for giving me 4 months of anonymity. And the man for no reasons; or maybe for all the reasons.

Then Delhi. The vintage beauty. The city of all seasons and emotions and many stories, of mughal adventures and modern flamboyance. The city which comforted me during tough times, walking with me through the lonely streets and mending my broken dreams. I go back to Delhi with my heart full.

I leave tomorrow from Trivandrum. There's nothing to write about this place. Because this place is a part of my existence and my identity. I don't have a life extricated from my 23 years of Trivandrum. This is the place which I would always keep coming back to. Everywhere around this city I find my stories and old songs. I'd come back for them. This place gifted me just one thing. People. Places are but stochastic entities without the people. I live this city through the people of this city; the people who walked into my life from this place. And for this place and my people I shall return with the tide..

The Doors..

Day 4  1985

"Eric, you know what your problem is ??"

"Hmmm....Maybe that I don't have any problem"

"Shut up"

"Then?"

"Its that you are scared.You want a perfect life. You are scared to disrupt that perfection. You are scared to make mistakes in life."

She tells me  on my face that I'm scared,that I'm an escapist. I don't have a proper reply for that and so I try escaping with my usual euphemism.Earlier I had to fight this battle on my own;evading my own questions,confused with an atrophied mind and as a perpetual refuge of my own war. Today she fights along.Sometimes with me and most of the times against me. I lose thrice over and again. But in the end there's a smile because I didn't fight alone. Because I found a compatriot in her.

"Its complicated Eric.I don't know how to explain it"

"Its not complicated.You are just making it that way."

"No Its not like that.Tell me what do I do for this?"

"Hmmm...."

She has many questions. And I seldom have answers.But there's an incessant stream of expressions between her questions and my almost nonchalant answers.Most of the time she starts off with anger;doubt,fear,laughter,apprehension,reassurance,sadness,harmony and then a new question.It goes on. And in this cycle of seasons I find my path to myself; sometimes answering her questions and most of the times getting confused. Its not the questions that matter now. Its the season. Anger,laughter.........

"Are you happy Eric ?"

"Yes,I'm happy"

"How can you be happy?"

"Because my happiness is a function of my mind and not of my circumstances"

"Fuck your philosophy Eric"

She is blunt when I bluff. No insinuation.Right on my face. I smile because I admit it and I know it. There are not many people in this world who could read me just like that; my words and my silence. Still we have these wayward conversations and still she finds out when I'm bluffing. Then why wouldn't I change?I don't know.Maybe I just like  getting caught. 

"She looks beautiful"

"Who looks beautiful ?

"But her outfit doesn't suit her"

"What?"

"The vegetables are falling down.He isn't noticing that"

"What? what"?

Initially even I couldn't make head or tail out of this. Then I saw the world of her dreams. Actual dreams with vivid images. A beautiful girl with an inappropriate dress,a random man losing his vegetables on the road,group songs,pink Cats and so on. I never try to interpret her images. I just listen and I could go on listening. 

 I've been lucky about the few people I know in my life. And I never met anyone like this sleeptalking girl. The best thing in the world is to converse with someone as yourself. My facades break, my defence wrecks and my pretensions fail after the first "Hello" or maybe even before that. I become myself. My insecurities, my doubts, my fear,my hopes;they fail to transform into an incomprehensible verbiage;flow out seamlessly.The greatest pilgrimages are not made to places but to people who destroy your masks. I'm on my way....

And the next time I say this I already know her reply.

"Eric,you know what your problem is ?".........................

Off-screen

Day 3.5   Cinema

I park my bike and walk into a queue.As usual I count the number of people standing in front of me. That was to check my probability of getting entry into a place where I forget everything;People,places and photographs..

 

                                                   *********

19 years back I was tightly clasping my Mother's hand when I walked into a similar place. I was scared of the darkness in that place. And then huge figures appeared on the giant white screen; deafening sound;people I've never seen in life.My Mother tried to make me understand what was going on. I remember I was still apprehensive. That was my first cinema. 

           

                                                            **********

I buy the ticket and climb the stairs. There's a feeble sound of music playing from within the hall.5 more minutes before the lights goes off. I search my pockets for a matchbox. Yes,there's one. I light a match and try to explain to myself why I chose to buy that ticket. I fail. I find no reasons.

 

                                                           ***********

I see the pages of calendars fluttering in my mind. A bit shaky. I can't recollect all the pages. But I do remember the time when I started to enjoy my visits to the theatre. The reason I reckon were the moving figures and some actors whom I had silently started adoring.Years went by. An era of Malayalam films.Then came the first Tamil film.Hollywood followed. One day our television breaks down.The screen becomes frequent.

                                                          ************

The fire still's burning in my hand. I look around. A tad more than the usual number for this particular time. What reasons would they have to buy their tickets ? Their love for darkness ? Or just for the sake of getting lost in a different world? 

                                                         

                                                         *************

Cinema starts to take me away from my world. From myself. And then more cinema follows; from almost all parts of the world. Different languages, cultures, man killing man and man eating man, despair,hope,politics,history,pain,agony,revenge,trials and tribulations cruelty,death,life,tears and laughter,princes and autocrats,God and no-God,poverty,anarchy,love,lust,sex,longing....

I love cinema. It just takes me away;takes me away into a different world of myself, of my whims and fancies.A part of mine lives the cinema I watch. I laugh, I cry, I think,I learn. I learn that human beings across the landscapes are the same. Their songs are the same.Their losses are the same.They too sing and dance and fall in love and lose.They too fail and live. They too are scared; of losing and dying. I wait for the homecoming of my love to kiss her again and I also take 3 bullets on to my chest in an obscure jungle. I sow and reap in large swathes of earth and I rend and build edifices which stands tall. 2 hours later I walk back to light and yearn for more darkness..  

                                     

                                                           **************

I walk into the hall and I'm directed to my seat.The lights goes off. A long beam shoots from a sqaure orifice from the far end of the hall and hits the screen. I wake up into a dream. Cinema....

                                                                                  

    

                                                                                             

Off-Screen

Day 3 On Cinema delayed by Delhi blues.....

I was planning to write on cinema the way i understand it. But as words started coming out my phone rings with an unexpected call; which reminds me of my journey back to Delhi. And i realize that i miss that place. So I'm talking to the caller again. cinema will happen tomorrow.

Conversations with a Revolutionary.....

Day 2 Revolution

The following post is an actual conversation which I had with a leftist man..Since we were chatting am posting the excerpts.In italics you'll find the man's statements and sometimes below them my doubts and disbelief in revolution.

This issue should be seen in the backdrop of the systematic and planned attack on the democratic and constitutional rights of the students by the university administration with the recent one being the Registrar's notification banning dharnas to the administration building. We beileve that this is a university and not any coaching center where you train the students in an incubator to do a specific task. This is a university wherein free flow of ideas, debates and discussions should take place in a healthy and democratic manner, for we believe university is the fountainhead of progress in a country. Not only the students but also the teaching and non-teaching staff of the university have the right to protest and voice their opinion. This is nothing short of strangulating us so that the 'authority' can be unquestioned and unrestrained in their conduct. We feel *** is fast becoming the new factory of the modern fascist elements aiming at controlling the very fabric of India's democracy: the debates, discussions and the discourses. It is an inevitable Holocaust in making, if we are not vigilant and vociferous about our rights being slowly eaten by the 'authority' who want to thrive in an unregulated environment. We have to protest and defend our non-negotiable rights.If university premises are not allowed to have intellectual pursuits are we supposed to have only Hum Aapke Hain Kaun!!

Me :so will it make any difference ??

only a nuclear winter can save the subaltern from the dominant class

Me:bull

u r one of t ignorant power beneficiaries of the society who lap up into the hands of the power holders n happily ignoring t millions who r struggling to run this country, it is very much our country as yours you urban donkey of the crazy idiotic democracy which has been subsumed by the political capitialism which has reduced humanity and people into ancedotes.

Me: its Anecdotes

what u want is the continuation of ur material interests n in t process forget t greatness of being born human u slimy bastard of the social circus!

Me:u wear a fuckin monkey cap which costs 800 bucks

puma sandals

nokia mobile

where's d fuckin human concern???

am sensitive n am sensitizing myself to t great inequalities which is cleavaging in our society

Me:inequalities will never cease to exist

throw away ur luxuries n set a path

am on my path b4 tat i wanna arm myself of enough ammunition to destroy this world cased in a glass case!

Me:buhahahahaha

u laugh n i will b t last person to throw earth on ur casket!

Me:i think u need a bath

i will take a bath in the pool of blood flowing from the severed hands of the servants of capitalists!

And thus I hope to see a revolution and a denouement. But what a world this internet is. I'm overwhelmed by the mere thought of witnessing a revolution in the ideological jungles of Hyderabad and suddenly I chance upon this picture on the internet.The denouement is changed. The characters change.Now there's a new design,a new leader, a new monologue, a new vision. All because of this one picture. A picture can do so much difference. Turned blood to water. Or maybe its not the picture. For avoiding the tediousness of searching the entire net for that picture I'm posting that as well.

Long live Revolution.

Gulmohar

Day 1

I came back from Delhi to an unchanged Trivandrum. Not that I was away for a long time; but one always feel d tardiness of time when away from the homeland.I love the anonymity of Delhi and its infinite space.I love Delhi because she taught me to walk without destination,because she taught me to get lost and find my way back and she also taught me to be free.

Gulmohar is not about Delhi. It is also not about the excruciatingly poignant and beautiful Malayalam film which I must say I experienced a few hours back. Gulmohar is about the path I traversed in Trivandrum before getting acquainted with the Delhi metro. Gulmohar is my memory and my fading shadow.

Many days before... I'm riding my vehicle through a long stretch of smooth road in Trivandrum and all the way I can see the images of blooming Gulmohars reflecting on my windshield and endlessly receding away.Gulmohars all the way on both sides. Brick red umbrellas gently swaying in the wind. No rules,no order.They are swaying with the wind. And I etch my memories on the brick red petals. The memories of the road,of the wind,of the adjacent lake,of my journey.

Today I'm riding again the same path. But I don't find the Gulmohars; Only the dark brown empty tree trunks and branches.This is the wrong season.This is the season to shed, for the brightest red petals tomorrow.I smile at the vast emptiness on both my sides. I smile because I know that this is one path I would never forget and I also know that the Gulmohars would bloom again on both the sides.

Tomorrow I'll go again to see whether it is spring yet.If it is spring there would be red flowers everywhere. Swaying gently. Without rules,without order. And I shall find my bright red petal.My Gulmohar.

and the story continues......

It's been a long time since I've penned down something on my blog. It was because of my laziness 99% and lack of time 1%. I'm wrapping up the last blog which ended on a rather uncertain note regarding my first leg of the journey.But to be frank about it there's no much suspense about it.After wandering around for some more time finally i managed to find a room and my journey continued.There was no plan, no destination. I just traveled it like life.

Anyways..

I've moved to Delhi now and these days i find very little time to blog. Now I'm back in trivandrum for a small break and one thing i've decided to do during my stay over here is that i'll blog everyday while i'm here. This is the first part. Will continue tomorrow.

In Search of a Temple and a few Flamingos........

Prologue...

The leaves of acacia,dry and purple and fallen
Faded,with many a springs' dreams
looks back into a time of songs
sung by old wanderers and pilgrims.
And the northern wind takes them leaves,
into those places of unheard hymns
through the ancient muddy roads
of lost civilizations and decayed kingdoms
and rustic memories.
For,after the long flight of the leaves
there are new tales and sweeter songs
and a new spring.
Awaiting.....

Chapter-1

I got down at Vridhachalam. It was just barren land with occasional population and cultivation for many hours before I got down there.A small, crowd less, two-platform station.I walked out through the exit into a dusty ground to find an auto-rickshaw. Just about 10 minutes drive to the bus stand, and with the help of a man waiting for his bus, I spotted the bus which would then take me to my first destination. Chidambaram.

I had with me a knapsack, a camera and two books(about which I'm mentioning in the coming chapters). The bus was crowded and worse still it was playing an old tamil movie which was unbearable by any standard of patience. But the two sides of the road came as a surprising solace. Long swathes of paddy fields with intermittent shades of green and yellow. The young fields were dark green and the ripe ones, golden yellow,swayed gently in the wind.Thatched huts,small tea-shops,ponds,water-bodies with wild flowers completely enveloping them,trains of bullock-carts were the images on the way which still freshly lingers in my mind.

Long and narrow roads came in and went past for the next couple of hours. And then the bus entered into a dizzying crowd.Packed roads,high frequency sound,traffic lights,concrete buildings and all these typicalities of an unplanned town along with an English sign post made me conclude that I've reached Chidambaram. It was almost 8'o clock in the night. I walked to a nearby hotel and asked for a room and they smilingly replied that there are no vacant rooms.Without any anxiety i walked into another hotel.And then another 5 hotels. It was almost 10'o clock and i was still without a room in the completely unknown and soon-to-be-utter-black streets of Chidambaram.With a thorough outsider look i found myself very strange in that place and the staring glance of the people reinforced my belief. After some more time i had started to get those dubious and prolonged stares from some 'not-so-good-looking' locals.I was still without a place to stay and this time the first semblance of fear gushed into my nerves...

To be Contd...

Of an old college magazine and some memories....

I flipped through the pages of my college magazine of which i was a member of the editorial board and some sepia images start to relive in my memory.We worked on this mag at the fag end of our college days when every day counted towards an inexorable question of existence after the end of days..It was difficult to move out of a place that was inextricably carved into my fabric in these many days of different seasons..

Today,as the leaves are falling yellow and crimson, i remember a day, many summers back,when the hues of bluish fog entered my life as a perpetual shade of non existence.I forgot to learn anything from this place as I was so happy living here.The winter continues till date.Only thing's its now i realize that its been a long winter.

I should have imagined the bluish fog many summers back but i failed to.Today the winter teaches me many lessons that i forgot to learn.I'm picking up a few hymns of yesteryear,of the irriguous acacia leaves and some leaves of fallen memories.The angels have blessed and the devils had their time as well and i failed to understand my brevity.But the winter teaches me everything like my mother taught me to count many years back and before the many tears i shed were still the shining crystals of my eyes.

Today's pain of solitude teaches me yesterday's bliss of togetherness;the tears which fell on to the brown dust of the ground today taught me the sharpness of my yesterday's laughter;the steep trenches into which i tripped showed me the hilltops i climbed and the dark shadows of loneliness that surrounds me today enliven the bright,gail faces of camaraderie; all of which died into the cold undercurrents of time.All of us lived in colors and with a palette..

I'm grateful to my magazine.It showed me the cold of the winter and it gave me a blanket of memories before the cold got going.I see the the snow clad plain mountains of nothingness and i remember the exuberant songs of a spring i lived many summers back and i see the spring coming through the cold mountains,for me, to live yet another life...