The Ghosts…

I am as intrigued by the disfigured, terrifying, avenging/killing-for-fun, magical, screaming sub-variety as the next guy. In fact I’m fascinated by the idea of such ghosts. This time however, I’m not going to discuss them. I have a much more mild variety in my mind and somehow I dread them more.

Recently I came to stay back in a place where I had been for the past few years while all the familiar faces around me packed their bags and left. I did not think anything of it at the time. I knew I had reasons to stay back and there was no other way. I had made my peace with being alone. There are new people around but they will never be friends. It’s only now that I realise how mistaken I was. I think all of us are essentially alone always vying to find someone to fill up the void around us. We succeed temporarily when we make friends, spend time with them. Invariably, we end up alone when we go to sleep, although with the promise of finding them by our side again. No matter how hard we try we can’t make people a part of ourselves in a way which will make us feel accompanied when they are physically away. So, based on this hypothesis I made up my mind to be alone while I”m awake too. It’s not like I don’t have friends here at all but the time spent with them is very limited and sort of fixed. This brings me to my problem with the ghosts.

I thought I had prepared well for being alone but imagine my surprise when I walked past the room previously occupied by one of my closest friends and seeing the door ajar, had the strongest of urges to barge in. I could feel him sitting on the chair just beyond the door. Only if I pushed it wide open……

I was fully aware that someone else is the occupant now but the pain of that moment has never really left me. The presence I sensed that day, well, that’s my ghost for you. Ghost of a memory. I had frequent encounters with such ghosts after that day. Some other friend’s rooms, sometime walking down a familiar corridor, standing beside a familiar rock, listening to a song that was an anthem for us at some point in time, walking down the memory lane but only with the ghosts for company. Unpleasant! These are on the downward curve now but every now and then there’s still some surprise behind some nook or some cranny that springs at me with jaws of pain and leaves me rattled.

However, I’ll say this that these ghosts have not been without their benefits. They have made me more appreciative of what I have. The people whom I befriended over the years, I have always taken them for granted. Not anymore, not ever again. Someone said that the art of loving lies in making the use of suffering. At this rate, I m going to get quite adept at it. This knowledge is somehow irenic and disturbing at the same time.

When I Saw You…

I am like you or at least I feel so at the moment. You are surrounded by beauty as am I. However, caged will be the word we both are looking for though there are glorified names  for where we are and and explanations for why we are here. I hear rumours of other places from my fellow ‘travelers’ where others like as well as unlike us may dwell; no doubt you hear similar things as well. However, no one has any proof and some even deny the very idea of existence of such places. I go so far as to presume that you, like me, will trade your life even, to see those promised lands. Here comes the catch. Apparently our lives are not valuable enough.

You are a mere decoration, a good one if it helps any. That’s your purpose. Why? I wonder if you are someone’s idea of a joke,  here to make your owner feel proud and powerful, all the while when your owner’s ‘owner’ laughs at his vanity. Am I a mere decoration too? What’s my purpose? I watched a sunrise today. It was beautiful. The mist dissolved in the blink of an eye. Another blink and the morning star was gone. All the red sun had to do was peek out from the horizon! In front of its glorious rays, which will rival your skin even, I forgot how beautiful the mist was and how the morning star had me mesmerised. It’s not long before I start cursing the Sun for the heat it brings around mid-day. Beauty is so evanescent I hardly believe it’s worth all the trouble we go to try and maintain it. It’s not enough to make me want to stay where I am.  Don’t you want to get out? I do and I know you do too.

There are differences between us too. You can see the one who’s forced you into your cage whereas I can’t and maybe never will. Then again you can’t have anyone caged whereas I can. As I said, we are incomplete. The answers are not here and I have no clue as to where else they may be. As I look at you I see myself and yet I don’t. Are you the one playing this game? You know, the inside man.

I am readying to leave but I promise I’ll try and show a larger world to you even if I have to steal you. You have touched me. We are kindred spirits. I know it’s selfish but maybe you’ll return the favour and show me a larger world, that is, if you are the inside man, so to say!

The Dark Lake…

A cloudy sky! A dimly neon-lit road merging into a brightly lit one! Two hostels sitting silently (read less noisy than usual) behind us in the dead of the night! I was oblivious to all these as all my attention was focused on our destination- the smelly, plant infested lake sitting beside our hostel. Suddenly someone amongst the five of us drew our attention towards three people coming down the road. The first thought was ‘They are no profs, no problem’. Everyone started reassuring each other but I was re-focused on the dark lake and the promises it held.

It all started earlier in the day when Jain and I were passing the lake. The idea was improbable to carry out in the daylight but it stayed in some corner of my mind, waiting perhaps for another trigger. It came at one in the night when I went to ask Arunav to accompany me for our protein dose. He, besides agreeing with me, told me that some friends from Dihing had been to the lake. That was it! Forget protein (well don’t but wait)! I had to carry out my idea and I needed partners. Arunav will come of course though he was in denial (which is so typical of him). I went down calling for Jain who as usual agreed on the first hint of a little adventure. I went back to get Arunav (where is he? why is he taking so much time? there he is!) and together we made our way to the canteen. We had our protein in milk (necessary evil) and recruited Singhal into our group. Arunav agreed to come after a little more persuasion. Jain suggested that we ask Akshay out too and the Haryanvi agreed to the plan the moment he was made privy to it. We left the hostel together after a little delay (as Singhal had plans to ask another guy to join in, thankfully the plan never materialised).

I was bubbling with excitement as my idea was finally taking shape and without much effort on my part. I could feel the excitement of the rest of the group as we headed towards the lake. Finally, we were there- on the edge of the lake, aching to get in and staring at the one thing which was at the root of it all. A moored boat- as dark as the lake itself and all the same, inviting!

…and the Boat

I was behind Akshay (and I was glad he was leading the way because getting wet in the lake was not an encouraging prospect). Akshay went ahead in his usual devil-may-care style, until he reached the boat; once he tried to step into it and as it began to shake, the first hint of fear set in. However he managed the feat and after a few rounds of encouragement interspersed with loud swearing from his side he made it to the front of the narrow boat. I was right behind him and could easily understand the swearing part now. The boat was threatening to topple any moment and throw us into the lake. Others filed behind us- Jain, Singhal and finally Arunav. All the while, the shouts- encouraging, swearing and complaining- had been echoing over the lake. We were finally ready to launch into the murky waters but there was only one oar. Jain took hold of it. Arunav had a long bamboo which didn’t soothe our nerves as it was almost completely submerged in the water and we hadn’t even started. Then there was a pitch-fork which we mistook for an oar. Anyhow, with our limited resources, material and otherwise, we started off; the boat gave a shudder and mayhem ensued.Everyone started throwing advices at each other and, as is usual, no one followed any of those. I was a little scared, not of drowning but of the dirty, itchy water that waited for us should the boat topple. With just one oar it was difficult to steer as well as propel the boat and then there was also the question of a single guy propelling the five of us. Some five meters out the urgency of another oar sank in. Looking back, Jain spotted the end of a bamboo sticking out of the surface. Hoping it was on oar, we tracked back after a lot of maneuvering from Jain. The joke was on us as it turned out to be another pitch-fork. This did not dampen our spirits though (at least I tried my best to keep the mood upbeat) and we launched out once more.

The foul smell was overwhelming but the excitement of rowing a boat across the lake diffused all other concerns. It is for such moments that I love life. The excitement of doing something new; of generating an idea and following it (agreed others got on the boat before me but rowing it all the way across the lake was definitely my idea) is what makes life worth living. Sharing these moments with friends just doubles the delight. Some twenty meters from the shore we hit a particularly dense patch of weeds. It became next to impossible to row but I kept encouraging Jain and others joined in. Soon, after a lot of struggle on Jain’s part we broke free into relatively clearer waters and shouts of ‘Jaini, Jaini’ rent the air. Meanwhile, Arunav found a way of steering the boat using the bamboo he had. Singhal was busy removing the extra water that was entering the boat. Akshay and I, well, we were busy enjoying the ride (precisely what i had in mind from the very start). We were crossing the lake with good speed and to keep the momentum going I kept coming up with encouraging lines for Jain and others kept pace with me (though sometimes the lines back-fired as Jain retorted with some protein pun). Jain kept rowing, Arunav kept steering and we all kept shouting; finally we made it to the other side of the lake, bang in front of the ladies’ hostel. Leaving the boat brought back our initial fears of falling into the lake. Akshay jumped across the overgrown bank and declared it safe. Next up was me! The boat shook a little as I prepared to make the leap. Casting aside my nervousness I jumped; my right leg sank into the muddy water but my left found solid ground and after a moment’s hesitation I was safely ashore. The rest followed me to the dry ground and we leaped in joy, celebrating a task well done!

As we made it back to the hostel the only thing on my mind was ‘ I have to do this again’! A night to cherish with my friends!

On His Leave

Stare! Aha! The mysteries of stares! Where do I start? She had been staring at me from a distance of seven yards for the past half-an-hour. I had been busy avoiding it like I was scared of the consequences of meeting those eyes. The glances I stole told me that her eyes were full of mischief. This put me in a dilemma. I wanted to go deep inside those eyes and unravel the true intentions and yet somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do so. It had been around seven minutes since one of my ‘glances’ when I heard her voice. It took me sometime to decipher her words. She was shouting at someone. Was it me? What had I done now or maybe it was because of lack of any action on my part?

Words! They are so much easier to understand when compared to eyes! Each word carries a predefined meaning with it (unless it’s a part of a double-entendre) which makes it easier to decipher unlike eyes which carry different meanings, unique to the beholder. I have always been able to connect with words. Through books they have led me to different worlds, time-lines, adventures; inspired me when the chips were down; stirred up my emotions – be it love, anger, jealousy, pride, hate, sorrow or joy. Words have brought hope to me in the past and continue to do so. I have felt exhilaration on hearing some words while others have driven my passion. In other words, words have shaped my thoughts, my actions over the years.

Turned out, I was not the one being shouted at! To my amusement her words were directed at another lad who apparently had blocked her view. To be honest, it was flattering even if a little drummed-up (at that moment I relished all the attention of course, having just stepped into my adolescence). Her eyes were once again fixed on me. I don’t know for how long the status quo was maintained but when I woke up several hours later she was chatting up one of my best friends. It took all but an instant to realize that I will never know the secrets behind those black eyes. Later I’d be glad I didn’t reciprocate in time. She got married over the course of next five years (not to my friend) and for all I know, is happily raising her kids somewhere. However, during that journey I decided to learn the language of eyes and over the years I have started to understand much (with the help of another girl of course).

This fascination with the ‘hidden’ manifested in other spheres of my consciousness. Especially, the way I viewed words; where earlier I saw simplicity now I had started looking for deeper, more secret meanings. They still inspired me, moved me and the usual but along with it all came a different world which sometimes amazed me, sometimes scared me, sometimes delighted me, sometimes was just there because I was bent on finding it. Word play became my latest fascination- blanagram, anagram, ambigram, palindrome, pangram, lipogram, autogram– name it and I was into it. I enjoyed all this as much as…let’s not go there, for the time being. Someday I want to write about the pairs of eyes that have taught me so much and right now it’s time to gather material.

The Child in Me

Two missing incisors! Mischievous eyes! Lips widened in an innocent, charming and a genuine smile! Two new incisors! Blinking little, shiny eyes! Expectant arms stretched out! Mouth open in a tinkling laugh! A six year-old and an eight month-old. My two cousins who react in this fashion almost everytime they see me nowadays. Their smiles and antics light up the gloomy, rain-filled summer afternoons for me. There is something in their smile and laughter that arrests my imagination. I kept wondering and realised, it’s the childhood; free from any forced or faked emotions, free from prejudice, free as their minds are now; untainted childhood.

 

They are not here today. Even my family’s out. Sitting alone, my thoughts meander towards my own childhood. To tell the truth, I can’t remember much of my past long gone, neither the places nor the people. Only a few incidents, only a few people (my mother blames this on my absent-mindedness, I blame it on my indifference)! I can remember the Toppo brothers and myself as a trio back in my kindergarten years but not the mischiefs we would surely have been part of. This takes the fun out of remembering those days. There was a girl too, Rashmi, I am told. The only girl ever whom I gifted chocolates (nowadays I eat them before I can give them away). Then there came along a guy whom I shall never forget. He has shaped my life in more ways than one. Most importantly he taught me to follow my heart (numerous books do so but he used to set examples). Mobashshir (I am among the proud few who can spell his name right)! Imagine my happiness (I bet most of you can’t) when I met him this summer after a long gap of nine years! One of the best days of my life. There are a few others but that’s a story for another day. Remembering all these people led me to think about my feelings during those years. How I acted? How I reacted? How I perceived the world?

 

Guess I didn’t do any such things because however hard I tried I couldn’t recollect. Not a big surprise though. They say memory is like a garden and mine, I am afraid, is not perennial! Though one thing seems certain, I can fake a smile now which I didn’t do back then. Most people don’t seem to realise that a true smile can only be revealed by the eyes and not lips. This makes the task easier as people only look at the widened lips (which could have been a snarl on any other day). When I thought about this I realised that I have lost my childhood and it scared me (not much though which again made me think a little more).

 

When did my childhood go?

Was it when I found my mind was really mine,

To use whichever way I choose,

Producing thoughts that were not those of other people

But my own, and mine alone

Was that the day!

                                                                                     – Markus Natten

 

Indeed, when did I lose my childhood? Was it when I realised that myths were myths? Or was it when I saw the dual nature of adults? Was it when I had my first crush? Or was it when I scourged the dictionary for words related to sexual behaviour? Was it when I fought with my parents for being over-protective? Or was it when I shared my first kiss? Was it when I…have I lost my childhood yet?

 

Childhood being just a phase in life I’m not particularly grieving its apparent loss but sometimes I just want my innocence back. Sometimes I want all the understanding of the adult world to fade away. Sometimes I just want to be a six year-old again (eight months being too small). At such times I do the closest thing possible. I give a genuine smile to whoever is closest to me (strangers being no exception) and try to look at the world with pink glasses on (wonder if boys will ever wear them). Meanwhile it’s back to business (watching Euro 2008, that is).

Of Nightmares…

It is raining, not hard but enough to blur your vision. The sporadic wind gusts are not helping matters. My sweat mingles with the water running down my body as a cold draft whistles past me and I shiver. The tension in the atmosphere is almost solid, as if I can reach out and pluck it out of the air. People are screaming all around, unintelligibly. This just adds to the continuously growing knot of fear in the pit of my stomach. My breathing is becoming erratic and my pulses can give a Formula1 car run for its money as I prepare to dash…..

I don’t know how often but certainly most of us have been startled into consciousness by a nightmare during our sleep. I have been having nightmares, since I can remember, almost every night (or at least those during which I sleep). Many of them feature me being chased by some unknown faceless entity (my conscience if we are to believe some “psycho”logists) and sometimes by my own friends (guess I went back on a promised treat). They invariably end in me tripping over. I don’t get the time to look back at what caused it because that turns out to be the moment when I’m jerked out of my subconscious adventure into the real world with a spasm running through the length of my body. It feels as if I actually fell down, except, the pain is absent (thankfully!). This makes me wonder at the power of chemicals coursing through our brains which can change everything we perceive.

Some nightmares get a little weird as I slash through beasts trying to save someone who, rather which turns out to be a cat! I wake up confused and amused. Then some get actually spine-tingling with lots of blood (including my  own) involved. Some play with my emotions as I’m disowned by my family, discarded by my friends and ditched by my girlfriend (even though I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment). Surprisingly some of my worst nightmares involve me failing in all my courses (which won’t be a surprise if it happens). Some end in a doctor telling me I won’t be able to play anymore football (he’s a quack, right?) after I had been crushed by a speeding truck. The list goes on. Sometimes they come to pass in reality. I broke my collar bone last winter just before a sports meet about which I was so excited that I hardly thought about anything else.

…..towards the ball. I’m consumed with doubt over my ability and yet, oddly, I know that if anyone can do this, I can. A whistle blows and it’s different from the one which the wind is causing. It tells me that the time has come. I try not to think too much. I take two steps forward and position my left foot seven inches to the left of the ball and swing my right foot towards it. I stop midway but the goalkeeper dives to his left. Before he can recover I pull my right foot seven inches back and WHAAAAAAM! Alright, not that much power but it’s enough to roll the ball into the back of the net as the goalkeeper scrambles to his feet in anger at his own rashness. Suddenly the people’s screaming start making sense. They are a mixture of jeers and applause, boos and hurrahs, madness and joy. Even before I realize that I’ve scored the winning penalty in Inter’s final I’m lifted high in the air. I’m facing the sky with the water drops falling on my face and I watch as a shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds (it’s actually my window and I wake up). This is a dream, for a change, which I had last night. A little selfish but I dare say that my team mates will hardly bother about the minor details if my dream comes true. Something tells me that if nightmares can come to pass, so can dreams.

…and Dreams.

Am I confused!

The title’s is not supposed to be a question so don’t bother with the analysis. Hell! I wish I could start my blog on a more positive note but here I am after a night-out writing a blog I had no intention to start (but got inspired by my friend). So, here I am!

A month or so earlier I was rolling in options like old Scrooge in his gold (Duck Tales and not A Christmas Carol). I am not exactly known for making quick decisions. So they were killing me.

I have a girlfriend. I love soccer. I like listening to music in my spare time, while working, while in a bad mood and when in a good mood. I support Manchester United. I am a little lazy.

Where was I? Yes, in March. I was reconsidering whether I really was in love with my girlfriend, trying to decide whether I was the right guy to take over the mantle of football secy. of the college, trying to weigh the importance of an internship with completing my summer course and asking myself if I have ever apologised for my past mistakes.

It’s hard. Taking decisions. Even harder is to live with the fact that I am cheating myself by delaying the decisions. I like butterscotch milkshake at such times. It doesn’t help in deciding but is sure good for my taste-buds.

I was pondering over what to do with my life as in a job after graduation or a trip to a monastery. A sabbatical is not such a bad idea but I am afraid of the fact that I am considering one this early in my career. I keep thinking about all the lies I have told and the ones I am going to. Is there an end to it? I want to learn swimming, get better at soccer, climb the Qogir one day and fly but all I can see myself doing in the coming months is study TD, HT, MTO and Maths. Do I really belong? Or I am just shirking my duties? Will I ever be able to look at a beautiful girl without having a crush on her? Will I ever be able to walk beside Ganesh without giving him a shoulder-push? These were some questions which were blowing over my grey cells in an endless repetition like an annoying song that I couldn’t get out of my head and I couldn’t like, either. I had to answer them, for my own sake.

The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;­
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.

                                                   – Charlotte Bronte

Her lines  from the Evening Solace make me think twice about whether I should write about my decisions. I am still trying to decide. So, until then I’ll just listen to some music because I like listening to music in my spare time, while working, while in a bad mood, when in a good mood and when I have a decision to make.