I miss walking...

I miss walking..

Back when I was around eight or ten, we used to have this family ritual of going for a walk after dinner. Back then, we were living in Karaikal, a quaint little coastal town and our home was only half a km from the waterfront. The soft gentle sea breeze which whistled through the swaying conifers and rustling neems lining the road in front of my house still brings a smile of pleasure when I think of it. Since we were living inside my fathers company quarters, traffic on the road was non-existent.In fact, it was a private road, if I may.

So every night, after dinner, while my mother cleared up and washed the dishes, my dad, sister and me would put on our bata chappals(the sandal colored ones if u know wat i mean ) and step out into the cool evenig air and begin our walk across the small stretch of road we called home. To and fro, we would go, with the soothing breeze on our face and the satisfaction of a tasty meal on our tongue, walking the walk, talking the talk. Typically, my sister would be in full flow, recounting in glorious detail every step she took in school, every word her teachers said, while my father listened attentively, his hands behind his back, his ears cocked ever so slightly to her side.

And there I would be , on the other side, half my mind processing this steady stream of information, but the other half just wandering here and there, and all this while, my hands moving involuntarily bowling an imaginary yorker or spanking a scorching drive through the covers. And it is in these walks, that I feel I learnt more than in any classroom. It is on these walks that I learnt from my father questions ranging from space travel to relativity, from the color of sunlight to the appreciation of a poem. I have learnt more from those discussions with my father and sister on everything under the sun ( or rather the moon ) than anything I ve learnt in any classroom ( though to be fair, I haven't really tried the latter ;) ). But more than all, I learn about the joy of walking.. I learnt about the warmth of togetherness...
And after a while, my father would fetch me inside to see what was keeping my mother so long. And when she too joins us, her work for the day done, we walk together, cocooned in the warmth of togetherness.

I miss walking...

Life in black and white...

I remember, back when i was a kid, thinking that life in previous generations used to be in black and white. I swear, I believed that. I could just imagine people walking about, talking , going to school, raising families, everything- but in black and white. Maybe it was all those black and white movies of yesteyears or maybe it was those black and white photographs of my parents and grandparents back in their childhood- whatever it was, it had me sold good on the idea. Even now, sometimes when i am in a nostalgic mood, when i am thinking fondly of old memories, I like trying to imagine those times in black and white- a greyscaled footage of snapshots in slowmotion. Somehow, it all seems simpler, happier, and more heartwarming .. try it :)

What's under your eyelids?!

The mind is a fickle thing! Have you ever tried just lying down with your eyes closed and try to see?? Sounds absurd?! What I mean is have u tried seeing whats at the back of your eyelids?! havent?! try it ! it can be pretty fun and a bit disorienting. But dont worry, sanity is just an eyelid away :)

Looking back...and forward...

Am back again..staring at the familiar screen of the blog's new post window, which still looks ( astonishingly, considering today's fast changing world) so similar to the screen that stared at me when i first got this urge to blog some five years back..
and i wonder.. how things have changed, how much i have grown..or how much i haven't...

And i think of all the journeys that I have been on ... and i mean not just the ones on which i traveled places. I think of all those dreams left behind, those ideals compromised, those heights gained and those lows reached. I think of all those people who I ve met on this journey, a few who are still close in heart and body..so many, oh so many who lie buried in the deepest recesses of my memory, biding their time, waiting for those flashes of deja vu to resurface them, albeit fleetingly into consciousness, a sweet reminder of days gone by, greyscaled footage of memories which seems to surprise you with their clarity and detail.

I like thinking about the good times I had.. somehow they seem better every passing year. As though the fun and smiles are like wine, growing better and settling down as the years fly by. I only wish I could just sit back with nary a thought in my head in an easy chair like the one grandfather used to recline in after lunch ( a charukasera, in malayalam, a simple elegant but immensely comfortable piece of furniture ) and just stare at the bright blue sky and lose myself in golden memories, and let my mind wander by itself to wherever it chooses. Ah! bliss.. But I guess, such peace of mind is a long way off, something to be earned, not dreamt wistfully off..But till that day, I will dream on..

Drunk...

I like drunk people. People who can hold their drink i mean. Not the ones who go around smashing things on a high or end up throwing up all over the place. I like those who, after knocking back a couple of hard ones, get this peaceful look on their face and become great fun to chat with. I know people who find it so hard to express themselves in their sober state, become masters of eloquence when drunk, and I love listening to them when they do. The dialted pupils, the dazed happy expression on their faces, the smug grin, the overflowing camedarie make normal people abnormal, adds a dash of colour to their charachters, who are ptherwise black and white in the cartoon of life. A kind-of peaceful pallor descends on them, and I wonder whther they experience more happiness than I ever can in my sober state?!

the could-have-beens...

Chances.
A mistake.
Guilt.
Regret.
The could-have-beens.
Irritation.
The dead feeling at the pit of the stomach.

Life has this funny way of making you look back at it and wonder how things would have turned out "if-only" somethings had turned out the way they could have, would have,...should have.
And it doesnt stop with that. The mind wanders, like a leaf caught in a rainstorm. It flies in to the darkest recesses of the memory and brings back memories- sad, painful, guilt-ridden. And it starts to question whther all those things in ur life which rather not have happened would have hapened if its previous such twist of fate had not happened?!
And it has this way of knocking surprises down ur path. Just when u think its all smooth sailing and u are cruising along lifes highway with the top down basking in the sun, u feel the sharp cold tingle of a raindrop on ur skin. And before you know it, its pouring down heavily and the roof is stuck and cant be closed.
And the chill in your bones more real and much more stronger than the warmth ever was.

Moments...

No beginning. No end. As far as the eye can see, the road stretches on, right from the first faltering footstep to the final helpless collapse, we move on, oblivious to the chirruping birds on the wayside or the sweet fragrance of a dew-drenched rose. The path of life may twist and turn, but for the weary traveler, there is only one way – forward. He prods on, eyes set on avoiding the thorns here, the potholes there, but in doing so, his eyes miss the fast receding image of his origin, and his mind, whatever hazy notion he had of his destination. Till, some day, resting his weary legs in an ever-so-short moment of rest that he allows himself, his eyes catch a glimpse of something so remarkably simple yet exquisitely beautiful that for a moment, just a special beautiful moment, everything else is forgotten – he road, the thorns, the aching muscles – and all tat is left is moment of beauty , so transient and feeble, yet frozen for eternity. Heart filled with a feeling, too rich and strong to be reduced to words, he lifts his eyes and perceives the world around him in a different light. Where once he saw the dusty road stretching on, now his eyes seek out a horizon, beyond which he senses intriguing possibilities; where once he saw just travelers and path, now he sees the sky, the stars and the sun. Where once he ‘looked’, now he ‘saw’; where once he ‘walked’ now he ‘Lived’.

It is indeed these special moments that give a sense of purpose to all our lives. Each and every action of every human being ( and maybe animals too) is aimed at attaining our perception of happiness – an emotion whose definition is both fundamental and complex at the same time. Every deed – be it “good” or “bad” of ours is aimed at this. Even the so-called social sins – greed, gluttony, lust – aren’t all these aimed at happiness, however short term it may be?? but it is this eternal quest which stretches on till the last moment of our lives, clouding our vision of a lager, more fundamental purpose? Are we being blinded by our insatiable needs and end up missing the real reason behind the question of why we were given the consciousness to comprehend these very same questions? Does the path of life actually stretch on eternally or if not, what is, in fact, waiting for us beyond the horizon, even though, given our physical limitations we might never reach it? Well, I think that maybe, just the fact that we are gifted with the vision to perceive the horizons, means that we are also blessed with untapped reserves of mental prowess to comprehend what might lie beyond it, and it is this realization ,maybe that actually is the real destination-the end of the road. All I am sure of is that traveling doesn’t not make a journey but reaching somewhere does!(contrary to the popular saying i am afraid ;) )

In each of our lives, there are moments, like that of the traveler’s, in which we rise above the mundane reality of our drab existence and perceive a moment of such awe-inspiring beauty that it leaves us breathless, and fills in our heart the conviction, that we are, indeed, a small but integral part of an infinitely large cosmic puzzle. Moments like these may be few and far between, and come from anywhere- be it the sudden inspiration of an idea, the silent pride of an deserved triumph, the quiet joy of a kind deed, the elegant beauty of nature’s creations or even just a loving word from a beloved – but when they come, they leave an imprint that transcends our senses and gives us a glimpse of a realm, higher than ourselves.