Wet sand...

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. As vividly as the day when I graduated. The date was…don’t you just hate such people? Those who can remember the date and time of every little insignificant event of their lives. The ‘Subodhs’. On the contrary, it was a regular, boring, ‘nothing to do’ day. And I was doing precisely that… ’nothing’. Getting bored out of my wits, sitting at home. I had watched all the television I could in one day (or one life maybe). I needed something better, something ‘more’ constructive (more?? What more?? There is no comparison…just constructive), something worthwhile to do. But unfortunately there was nothing else to do. I was jobless (yet again), looking for a job in a completely unfamiliar field (yet again), and I was lonely (yet again and again and again). I felt worthless, loser, and like a ‘dharti pe bojh’.

Luckily some friends called me, and I was rescued from the confines of ‘my own prison’…(for all you ignorant people, that’s a song). I got into an auto rickshaw to get to the meeting point. Just a couple of minutes into the ride it starts pouring outside. The first rain. I love the first rain. The smell of ‘wet sand’ (oh my god! How ignorant can you get…even that is a song…develop a taste people). It’s heavenly. Science says the first rains are bad for you, as it carries all the acids that were present in the atmosphere. Balls to science!!! The first rains are the best thing that ever happened. I could feel all the tension, all the worries just getting washed away with the rains. (Just a crazy stupid thought, probably tension and worries are basic, that is why the acidic rains wash them away). In any case I was suddenly feeling brilliant. Just when I was beginning to enjoy the rains and my spirits were beginning to rise, my rickshaw stalled. Apparently it’s not used to the rains. Rain pouring down with a fury, trying to prove a point, that it’s comeback time. And I’m stuck in the middle of a busy road, in a rickshaw. And believe it or not, instead of enjoying the rain, instead of getting down and splashing around like we used to when we were kids, when we were filled with innocence, what is the only thought crossing my mind. ‘My cell phone is going to get screwed’. Can you believe it? I could not. How high tech has infringed upon the simple joys of our lives. It’s sad, pathetic but omni present. Unfortunately. Anyways, I was not going to let something as insipid as this to rob the joy, the thrill, the pure unadulterated happiness Mother Nature was bestowing upon me (Oh my god!!). All I had to do was get a plastic bag, (irony: mother nature bestowing happiness, and me using ‘plastic’ to enjoy that happiness) to safely put my cell phone into. Eureka. Problem solved. Once that ‘daunting’ task was accomplished, I walked a little more than a kilometre in the rain, graciously offered my cab to a family, took a lift from an unknown person on a bike (and trust me, bike rides in the rain…SCARY), finally got into another rickshaw and met my friends. Oh and yes, the first thing I made them do, check if my phone was ok!!!

weak and powerless...

Tilling my own grave to keep me level
Jam another dragon down the hole
Digging to rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren
One that pushes me along and leaves me so…
Desperate and ravenous
I’m so weak and powerless…

These lyrics of the song titled ‘weak and powerless’ by ‘a perfect circle’ echoing in my head are the cause of the splitting headache, of the bad temper, of the fuck all mood that I am in. There are a set of people you derive energy from. Their belief in you, their encouragement… that is the fuel. And what do you do when that fuel tank shows empty? It’s a horrible feeling, so vulnerable, so unsure, unsafe, so…’weak and powerless’. Where to look for the drive now? Whom to turn to? It feels claustrophobic. No where to go, no one to turn to. The path ahead is hazy and the path behind is lost. It feels like it would have been better if there were no desires, ambitions, wishes, passions. The choices would have been so much simpler. The path would have been so much clearer. Will such a day ever come? Ever?

dream on...

How important is it for you that your dream comes true? How far are you ready to go? How much risk are you ready to take? For how long can you bear everyone doubting your conviction? When is it that you stop chasing some stupid (in others’ eyes) dream? These are questions that for some reason have no legitimate answer. Although for you, the answer holds great importance, but unfortunately (or fortunately) there is no ‘right’ answer to them.

I was just flipping through the channels when I came across this medieval times movie starring Anil Kapoor, Utpal Dutt (the golmaal guy), and others called Saheb (obviously this is the movie that sparked those questions). The movie is about Saheb (Anil Kapoor) who has a dream to become a footballer. He’s not from a well to do family and therefore is constantly ridiculed and criticised for not taking up a job and chasing this stupid dream. He’s tremendously passionate about football and dreams day and night about it. Now, his younger sister is to get married and his father can not afford the wedding. I’m not going to dwell on the unnecessary (not truly unnecessary, it’s a brilliant build up) occurrences. What Saheb does is, he goes and sells his kidney so that his sister can get married and be rid of the feeling of guilt that she is going to be responsible for a huge debt on her father’s head. He does it knowing very well that he will never ever be able to play football professionally with one kidney. Knowing that the one thing he had dreamt of day and night will not come true.

So this brings us back to the queries I had posed earlier. When do you stop chasing your dreams? Should you stop chasing your dreams ever? There are also those of us who believe that come what may, whatever difficulties we face, whatever hardships we have to endure, we should always follow our dreams. ‘If life gives you thorns, you make do with thorns. You do not brood on their nature, colour, length, sharpness. Instead you pluck them and keep walking, on bloody feet if you have to.’ Those who have such beliefs aren’t wrong. There is more than just white and black here.

A 'new' Cinderella story...(and this time it's a man)

“Yes”. That was the answer that started it all. The dreaming, the planning and all that jazz. What was the question? “Will you go to the prom with me?” I studied four long years in that college and we had prom only once. It wasn’t an extraordinary event (at least not for the 200 other people there) but it was still ‘prom’. She didn’t say yes because she liked me, she didn’t say yes because there was no one else to go to the prom with, the only reason she said yes was because I was the first to ask her. Kinda sad right? Well, it was still a memorable night. Since the day she had agreed, I had been dreaming of the night. Playing it in my mind back and forth, again and again. The reality was…hmmm…how do I put it…’little’ close to what I had dreamed….oh forget it who am I trying to kid…it was nothing like I had dreamed. The first problem…what do I wear? I had nothing good enough. I knew it for a fact she would be looking stunning (even more than ever). I had to at least look worthy of her (if not better). I practically went to every mall, every shop, visited every brand's showroom that is located between santacruz and lower parel. Budget was never an issue. Finally I struck gold at Pantaloons, lower parel. It was just the shirt. I laid eyes upon it and knew it was perfect. ‘Slim fit’. The next problem….How do I manage to go together to the prom? As in, not jus meet up outside the venue…’go together’. Call me orthodox if you will, but I deemed it my responsibility to pick her up from her home and take her to the prom. That’s where my good friend and his car come into the picture. He gave me his car (minus him) to go pick her up. I went to her home and called her up and asked her to 'descend'. Finally, the moment arrived. Believe me when I say this, she was looking…hmmm…how do I put it, ‘stunning’ will be an understatement. She was looking like a princess. My ‘princess’ for the night (and if I had my way, a lot longer) had arrived. I had planned to get her a rose, which of course I forgot. What do you think I am? Perfect? I took as long as I could to reach the prom from there. I wanted to spend as much time possible with her alone. I knew once we reached the prom my magical night would end. She would be swept away by the rest of my friends (I call them friends in retrospect only). That is precisely what happened….my brief, short and sorry fairy tale came to an abrupt end on arrival at the college campus (yes, that’s where we had our prom…I told you it wasn’t an extravagant event). But those few moments together were simply breathtaking.