Anamnesis

A quaint winter

Dim is the lantern

(Though) Fog obscures the dark

(There) Shines the broken ark

Star filled night

The sky gleams in diamond bright

A string of falling stars

So close yet so far

Dreams, they are nebulous 

A void, filled in dust

This time we share

A deer with a silent stare

Transcends the universe

A bliss or a curse?

Deer that died all alone

Its eyes, tear borne

Boxed in Paradox

He deliberately starts humming the lines from the Iron Maiden song ‘Blood Brothers’ - “Keep on making the same old mistakes..” and looks smirkingly at me. I don’t seem to have the urge or the intent to react to him. Just a smile of acknowledgement as if to complete that last verse of the song without remorse..

“When you think that we've used all our chances

And the chance to make everything right

Keep on making the same old mistakes

Makes untipping the balance so easy

When we're living our lives on the edge

Say a prayer on the book of the dead”

~ Blood Brothers - Iron Maiden

The Prophecy of the Wanderer

There's a kind of ecstasy

A never ending fantasy

The wandering wanderer's learnt all around

Something's on the cards today

Something's always far away

Beyond the farthest star dreams surround

Right outright his prophecy

The generations' legacy

Within the reasoned lies life'd begun

The wasted strumings all along

The wasted mornings gone too wrong

The rested melody to savour

A drifted abstract notion

A sober hallucination

The surreal reverie manoeuvres

There's a certain destiny

No matter the epiphanies

The senseless dreams wont still be over

(Where) I've always been with you

And in those dreams I've dreamt of you

Across the CROSS built by, the wanderer

The Wonder Reef

High waves break away

So stern, gushed on the strand

My dreams sail away

Down the reef, way across the deep 

Cold breeze, breathes to me

(That) I'll fly, up above the sky

(Those) old dreams (still) strive to live   

Around the reef, way across the deep

Alone, forlorn 

This shoreline

I gaze, straight ahead

(Into) this murky skyline 

(While) the sun’s across the line 

Suddenly, the fear goes free

And the dark seems all the more sublime

The stars I see, blissfully

Deathly waves too sound out so divine

(Now) I could sail on, till I enfold

The wonder reef, way across the deep

faded & gone

There I saw 

you rise up tall

There I saw

your divinely stroll 

Then I crawled

crawled over the wall 

And I saw

red light in the dawn

And I saw

you faded and gone

There I saw

you float out in song

There I saw

(it) shine ever so strong

Then I strolled

just down by the lawn

And I saw

those hazardous thorns   

And I saw

you faded and gone

There over, right in the blur

I know I've been for a while

In the end, I feel blessed

As I see your smitten smile

But I am sure you'll fade again

You shielded my eyes and said,

‘This moment’s long drawn (out)

This lifetime & beyond’

And then there I saw, 

you faded and gone

Right vs Left - The fading Center

In these modern increasing divisive times of 'the Right vs the Left' phenomenon around the world, be it in Britain, America or in India, objectivity is slowly losing it's relevance and partisan, hysterical narratives striding to dictate political & ideological dispositions all over.

Here's how frustrations on both sides seem to be playing out around the world- Right feels the liberals have hijacked their ideas of identity & nationhood under the streak of disingenuous political correctness, economic disparities and minority & immigrant appeasement. They are frustrated with liberals' exaggeration of minority victim-hood, sloppy responses to external national threats (viz Islamic radicalization) and constant callousness towards the wishes and desires of the majority population - or the perceived founders of their respective nations, who think are the only ones wearing nationalism as a badge of honor. Liberals on the other hand are constantly resorting to the counter-theatricals so as to check nationalism from turning jingoism, or worse racism or communalism, while themselves crossing the line of liberal & democratic values, going overboard in their narratives in giving the same exact biased impressions as above to the right wingers.

In India for example the whole intolerance movement was such a phony contrived propaganda that it pissed off even the 'moderate' rightists and made their alienation from liberal views even stronger. Sure due to BJP in power their ideological affiliates have emboldened themselves in the form of 'cow vigilantes' and anti-muslim or more specifically 'anti-anti national' rhetoric. Sure we need to mow down these cow-protecting fascists, student-beating holier-than-thou nationalists. But liberal counter-narratives haven't been an unbiased and constructive one in this regard. From 'award wapsi' brigades to the over-the-board 'Kanhaya Kumar sympathizers', they have simply contributed in aggravating their 'Congress bias' images lending the divide stronger. And finally now on the Kashmir issue, both sides - right & left - have lost the plot completely. Right is exasperated at the sight of stone pelting protesters (and their sympathizers) when a legit terrorist was brought down by Indian Army. Left wants a balanced narrative to highlight the larger Kashmiri political issue at a time when police & armed forces are embroiled in a fierce battle with the local & Pakistan influenced protesters and when the Army's morale is being challenged by shouts of fake encounter. I am not an expert on the Kashmir conflict but have been intrigued by it since childhood and can vouch for the fact that its too complicated to be simply reduced to a debate of Nationalism (read Indian Army) vs Terrorism (read Pakistan sponsored). Until the time both mainstream India and indigenous Kashmiris learn to deal with the problem with a sense of maturity & bipartisanship, I want to thank the heavily partisan Indian media for leading us back a thousand strides into the abyss of aggravated alienation. 

Coming closer here in the United States, I feel such an uncanny similarity in the political & ideological landscape between the two countries right now (with the caveat that at least during election year in India the agenda was more development centered) - a clear divide between right & left! Right conservatives are frustrated at the unfounded political correctness on part of the democrats - from not acknowledging the seriousness of 'Radical Islamic' terrorism to ignoring the illegal immigration issue and above all sidelining the welfare of white 'founders and owners' of the country. The whole 'Black lives' vs 'Blue lives' matter rhetoric smacks of similar majority vs minority debates back in India played out by the equivalent Right & Left ideologues. I specially find it funny & paradoxical when my right wing BJP leaning Indian fellows here conveniently support democrats to save us all from a potential Trump inspired minority & immigrant backlash!

Human race is and has always been conveniently ideological and hypocritically partisan. The ideas of nationhood, religion and race have just been our selfish tools for survival. There's nothing ever painted in clear black or white in life and everything including human minds and their professed ideologies is simply a smear in the shades of grey. But we continue to choose to dwell in our extreme far right or left narratives losing the sight of our inherent 'grey' disposition along the way.

Obsessive Temporal Compulsions (Expr. 2)Waking Conundrum

Why am I in the dream still?
This ain't the waking me
Help me run away
Shut myself off
So to get back to sleep
And wake up to the real me again

Ignis Fatuus

I see, I sense, I think
A cloud of endless misgivings
I smile, I cry, I feel
A string of wasted histrionics
I dream, I scream, I breathe
A wonder and its constant forebodings

Chasing the flitting light
Into this dark enduring night
There I pause, looking over the marsh
Lost, transiently, in its silent reverberations
I indulge in the perpetual hallucination

Obsessive Temporal Compulsions (Expr. 1)The Bluebird’s nest

A world full of fulfillment

Yet a shadow smeared with angst

The dance of bewilderment

Where’s that professed Bluebird’s nest?

The echoes of ludicrous materialism

Of love and friendship and mirth

Shrouded in whirls of cynicism

Ricochet endlessly in a bliss of dearth

Moment of Subsistence

The uncanny déjà vu of that fateful morning revisits me at times. Amidst the jinxed eeriness of wee hours and thus forthcoming eventuality of loss and life, our moments of spirituality had engraved forever in time. From your final goodnight bid (apparently final words as well to any member of your extended family hierarchy) to the last few breaths of your mortal existence, we share a limbo of eternity – utterly irrelevant to the world you knew, yet surreally real somewhere in anonymity – ever since that night broke when I was supposedly stationed at your sides in case of emergency. The emergent void indeed grasped you in cold hands as the morning dawned in, while we simply played in to the rings of despondency.

The morning walks, the gentle caresses on my back, the pre-independence anecdotes, the demeanor of wisdom and authority – few of these memoirs from childhood what define ‘Ata’ as we all grandchildren called him. Lives have moved on far and fast since his existential relevance ceased on us. The priorities of remembrance too changed course to be overhauled by our more contemporary earthly counterparts. Today, our moment of commemoration has withered to subsist on one sole annual event burnt alive on the spirited endeavor of few long term theosophy incumbents, friends and truly attached family members. For most of us embarking on our worldly existence miles away, I wonder how strongly this moment bears on our consciousness. However, a brief tryst with the lost memories of my grandfather (on account of a memorial write-up) manages to flare up few epiphanies as to the philosophy of life, death and that mysterious thing called love.

A Molested Cultural Syndrome

So where did the ‘Great Guwahati Molestation’ theatricals eventually play out to? Stirred in the backdrop of some diabolical perversions, outrage, conspiracies and cultural predicament, did we all end up dancing to the same old farce of despondency?

Beyond the natural widespread indignation rallied around those shocking, disturbing visuals of a young girl being gang-molested in the middle of stark public eyes, there unveiled a much larger issue of Assamese socio-cultural doldrums that all of us have grown up into but seldom confronting on face. Before I could point fingers at others, let me start with my own case. I had learned about this despicable event taken place at the heart of my home town much before national media fireballed into the scene, courtesy a friend’s FB updates. I didn’t bother to explore much on it as the common ‘Assamese’ impression, on numerous such past stories of Live News ‘sensationalization’, has been of frivolous in nature. There were a dozen other incidents in the past of similar distaste where Live cameras captured and ballyhooed, but never really achieved anything other than ending up in satirical friend circle chatters like ours. Had it not been for my lingering wasted evening hours here in the US those days with NDTV website being a daily routine browse, I wouldn’t have been exposed and driven to the true magnitude of ignominy and outrage the incident carried. This explains the first thing about our socio-cultural mindset conflict: We ‘liberal’ Assamese (taking the liberty to generalize on my own behalf) just don’t take our local media and more importantly local issues seriously, unless, of course the issues are considered good enough to be hyped in the national front. And there are good reasons as to the pretext of such a mindset: Firstly, the never ending anecdote of killings, bloodshed and controversies we all have innately grown up with, has perhaps in a way made us an indifferent (to socio-political problems) lot at large. Secondly, the credibility of sensationalizing local news media has always been at stake, right since the days of ‘Pratidin’ to the more recent evolution of 24 by 7 live news channels. Hence, its not at all surprising not to see immediate public outcry in Assam over the whole issue (well they eventually had to budge, as an entire nation fumed).

So now since NDTV (and subsequently all other major satellite channels) decided to prime time the incident in Guwahati, it caught my attention and ushered in a warrant for deeper introspection vis-à-vis some disturbing facts. In the televised debates, everyone condemning the incident (which all humane souls naturally will) questioned the increasing defunct of social and moral values in the State. Stats suggest recent rate of crimes against women in the State stands doubled compared to that of rest of the country. Now this shocked and upset me to the core. Well, traditionally the impression in the mainstream India about North east and its culture has always been overwhelming as far as socio-cultural liberalization is concerned. The issues that cripple most of the country like dowry, communal violence etc never ever managed to leave a blemish on the faces of us 7 sisters. I, in fact, have always maintained to brag about this liberal and ‘westernized cool’ image of ours in front of my North and South Indian friends elsewhere. But if we were so liberal and forward thinking (where curses like dowry don’t even exist), how could women atrocities stand so high? All this while I kept believing its just Delhi and its surrounding UP desperados behind all the ignominies meted out to the women of the country (be it rape, molestation or even incest). But today whole of my misconstrued ideology seems to have gone for a toss. The disturbing facts, questions and the moral condemnations telecast in the shows, pushed me towards an introspective ride albeit an epiphany of some harsh realities.

Alright, I concede the existence and prevalence of pervert syndromes in the backyard of my own, hitherto so believed, ‘progressive’ society. And in the tone of million others, I echo the same (by now clichéd) decree of deterrent punishment and social embargo for the perpetrators. But isn’t the idea of social boycott a paradox in itself? Do we first of all have a socio-cultural value driven consensus on incidents like these in Assam?

Without going into the conspiracy theories, one thing stands clear that the whole molestation saga had more than incontrollable testosterone levels inscribed in its storyline. A righteous mob disposition, questionnaires like ‘Are you a student?’ ‘ You have taken alcohol huh?’ and unethical disclosures of the girl’s identity (the whole footage for that matter) - all led to the larger apathy of a hypocrite & confused society caught in the cross fire of liberalization and cultural values. This is to explain the genesis behind the ‘righteous’ mob crusade as well as an equally detrimental rationale behind a silent civil society. Assam, especially Guwahati, for years has been strangled in the constant dilemma of modernization vs cultural value perseverance. Time and again, from eminent scholars to indigenous groups like AASU, have created more and more confusions on the ideological blueprint of our day to day socio-cultural norms. Yes with globalization pervading an air of change in the rest of the country for decades (viz. through cities like Bangalore and Hyderabad) we too received some flakes of it in the name of pubs, dance floors, CCDs and the KFCs, but sans the true empowerment in terms of exposure and liberalization per se. While Guwahati simply dwelled on the commercial corollaries of globalization when the actual essence stayed with rest of India, the city was inadvertently left in the barracks of a much aggravated socio-cultural predicament. Where on one end an outgoing new generation attempted to relish the changing ‘globalization’ induced values and norms, on the other end the cultural ‘messiahs’ (ironically comprising youth) stayed stubborn on these rather ‘hollow’ western culture shocks. Now just take out the whole molestation episode from the video and envision only the interview part of the girl – A student from class 11, coming out of a bar at 9:30 PM (in provoking enough outfit too). Throw it off at the face of the society and count the no. of endorsements certifying the girl’s demeanor. The ‘lunatic’ mob, along with the majority of a ‘tolerant’ society sadly share a common ground here as far as morality on certain social values goes. The thin line of hypocrisy separating the two lies miserably on this crude distinction - Whilst one degrades further on its own distorted moral creed (turning vigilante, molesters etc), the other remains firm silently on values of equal perversion. Yes probably she’s too young to be visiting bars as yet (mind you the legal drinking age is 18 in Assam), yes she is indeed foul mouthed (which you think is a taboo whereas boys since class 5-6 master the words) and yes she perhaps binged till the brink. The moral judgmental bandwagon of both sides simply fails to roll beyond these cultural ‘misconducts’. Ask a parent. Ask a commoner. Or in fact ask the same News channel editors (read Zarir Hussain and Atanu Bhuyan). Had molestation angle not ensued that night, the whole coverage (and the subsequent moral crucifixion) would’ve focused on the plight of the cultureless ‘drunk’, ‘foul mouthed’ assamese youth (worse girls)!

Even hypothetically believing the girl was under aged for legal drinks, the undertow of morality tends to simply stress on the philosophy of expose` and vilification of juvenile perpetrators, without pointing a finger at the fundamental depraved facilitators of our highly flawed system (which unlawfully serves liquors to minors at the first place).

Now finally lets turn on to the much proclaimed social justice the news channel said to bring forth (with or without a staged propaganda). Besides repeatedly reciting the ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ maxim and accentuating miserably on how the rolling footages indeed helped create public outrage and eventual police action, they kept crying hoarse about one more disturbing aspect - that of a dormant on-looking civil society (which paradoxically included their own crew). Well, the fact that no passing cars really bothered to pause/roll down the window panes (even momentarily) to assess the happenings in the middle of a relatively busy night city street, doesn’t really surprise me. Plagued by a rampant conflict ridden legacy of militancy, army atrocities and bomb blasts for decades, there lies a conscious explanation/justification in our value system of such ‘evading’ ideology, inherited across generations. The scene of a running ‘drunk’ woman in front of a city bar, with some thugs behind, doesn’t naturally help, in the eyes of a status-wary civil society. Well, so what if the ‘responsible’ news channel removed sound clips of the hoodlums (allegedly) shouting the girl to be prostitute across streets, the ‘cowardly’ onlookers had to bear the brunt in the wake of a ‘valiant’ rolling news camera crew and its ultra ‘responsible’ editorial house!

In a nutshell, a nation – outraged and shocked – postured in indignation. Demanded action, retribution and a precursor of deterrence. A ‘sting’-savvy media house grand-standing on a shocking yet ‘valiant’ footage, degraded horrendously in the course of ethical confrontations and in house conspiracy accusations. Morals, ethics and woman atrocities grappled all debate themes. Glimpses of an insensitive, sexist society flickered in paramount visibility. And eventually the devils of the scene, though at large initially, subjected to ‘indisposed’ police apprehension. A ‘red’ wired swaggering ‘Amar Jyoti Kalita’ became the symbol of a mass (successful) ‘social network’ hunt. Unedited leaked images of gruesome perversion made headways in cyber ‘tubes’. And the misfortune of a binge gone horribly wrong, posed to haunt a girl forever with the price of her juvenile ‘misadventure’ carried in the backdrop of inebriety, Live cameras, perversion and cultural bigotry..

The Ghost of Richard Cory

My three long lost friends
Darkness, silence and loneliness
I know I’ve parted ways with you..

The nights and the rhymes, all left dry
Our moments of together, hard to come by
And I know how I long to be with you..

I wish to shun the light glowing constantly
Embark on a hiatus in your shadows momentarily
And look to rediscover through the rusted renditions
The traces of all our lost conversations

Lost and ParadoxED

Hey what's happened to you? You said you'd be through with the paradox.. Broken free? Or indeed back to square one? Do you still abhor my sarcastic smile? Did you get yourself back that time or lost me briefly? Well alas, you can't shut down on me for good.. Well, sooner or later, the truth will be known.. I am, and will forever be, the you.. Till time eternal..

Paradoxical Shenanigans

In his usual vanity he asked me, "Is this you I've counseled all this while?"

I said, “I've seen a new found essence in the paradox”..!

He smiled and let me tread on..

An old forgotten feeling - long forbidden - has been let loose.. A resurgence of the ‘snow-white’ escapism, hovering all over again.. The pathetic abandoned ‘I’ of the inconsequential times has had a renewed shot at inanity!

In my brief pursuit of the paradox I often stared at him - in dim, restrained eyes.. Has he already gone muted – the stark counselor bereft of his quintessential preachings?

The 'break free' & 'fuck-the-rationales' sentiment's been a bit too overwhelming and the rigorously nurtured 'systematic wisdom' of the years, now stands to lose ground.. I say I am up for it. I say I am for the change..

“Yeah, rather back to square one..”

He won’t intervene no more. But the sarcastic streak remains - as he turns around with the usual condescending smirk, muttering something scathing. I couldn’t miss it. I heard him enunciate “Faker”! And I had to take offence at once, shouting back hard on him.. perhaps in the eluded ‘paradoxical’ defense, per se..

“Can I not dub you the same from the other side?”

Surreal Realism (the prose)

The quintessence of abstraction: "A research paper underlying the facets of Realism, evading any form of detailing on Surrealism”

Well it had been quite sometime where a recent release could leave off such a daunting impact in the movie experience front.. Fair enough there have been some great releases in recent past, deserving to be acclaimed, perhaps, as best of the times too (Avataar, 3 idiots bracketed); but the haunting metaphorical effect I have been subjected to in movies like "the tenant", “8 and 1/2", “the Seventh Seal”, "Fight Club" or "Cries and Whispers" had surely eluded the movie spectrum for a while now (Well at least for me).

Then along came a flick - dubbed now as a phenomenon of sorts - from an eccentric and maverick film-maker called 'Christopher Nolan'. If "Memento" had redefined the physics of story telling, "The Dark Knight" created new-found waves all along the commercial movie circle. Next on the pipeline was Nolan's dream project titled "Inception" - a script evolving through 10 long years (perhaps his next idea right after Memento, 2000) - an extravaganza, touted to be a sci-fi in the lines of movies like "Matrix". Well however it was not to be just that (a mere sci-fi bandwagon), not realized until I embarked on one of the most shattering epiphanies of my life (a record 3rd so far).

‘Inception’ is a maze, a labyrinth – way too personal on all accounts of our very existence and the understanding of life. Those who’ve captured this basic essence of the movie would agree Inception isn’t a science fiction after all. This is about venturing on to the closets of our minds we all are oblivious to laying a peek on. The conscious and the subconscious realms of the human mindset have been attempted to be blended with a very mystique yet engaging story line. Because of its complex levels and fast paced action package there have been numerous interpretations and explanations of the movie doing the rounds in the internet, trying to decipher the actual answer to the story. Well to me, the movie doesn’t provide one – it has been designed and made in that respect – to put every viewer in a spectrum where there isn’t a ‘black is black’ and ‘white is white’ answer. That seemed to leave everyone perplexed, vying for answers in an uncanny analogy to that of mankind’s eternal quest for the truth of life, death and space. The movie imprints a basic idea and leaves for everyone to ponder over it - “Is reality a relative concept?” It doesn’t make an assertion; well it can not. Like all of us possessed with some men-fed incomplete knowledge house of tenets of truth and reality, the protagonist (diCaprio) of the film undergoes a similar concoction – in the pretext of one of our most basic undertakings – our dreams and the state of the surreal realism within …!

‘Inception’ is a personal experience because of the fact we all encounter the dream space while asleep. Seldom do we care giving a more serious re-think on those ‘surreal’ mirages visiting us every single night. At times grotesque, bizarre and haunted sequences would often wake us up in a considerable amount of shock, only to be forgotten as a bad nightmare moments later. Could those sequences have deeper implications, coming out of our subdued subconscious? The intellectuals would say things portrayed in the dream domain are nothing but reflections of our own subconscious thoughts in response to every day’s undertaking, liking, desire, emotion and pain. Well studying the ‘half-remembered’ dreams would conform to the fact our dreams mostly tend to hover around the feelings of our ‘awakened’ subsistence. But can’t this very statement be held in an entire opposite perspective? What is after all an awakened state? The state where we believe we have been for years since our birth..? And hence believe we remember everything (mind it only since the birth point) unlike in the dream domain? The state where we believe we know the rules of the nature and possess capability of questioning the essence of our existence? But then we’ve all believed to be true what we know. Aren’t we making the rules ourselves and defining the perimeters of truth? Aren’t the laws, formulas and assertions of science and nature mere observations of our finite ‘conscious’ mind power? Isn’t after all ‘Reality’ a man made terminology in an ‘assumed’ logical anointment to the incomplete human rule book?

Coming back to dreams being reflections of the subconscious, where they say - “your dreams have a direct resonance thru the subconscious, of the deepest thoughts encountered in the conscious”. Fair enough, as most would agree with this version. Like right after my brother’s death my dream domain predominantly staged cryptic and obscure sequences involving him in the center part. It was obvious as the grandeur impact of shock and disbelief engrossing the mind then (both conscious and subconscious) had deeper repercussions thru the dream sphere and which in a way explained the general reasoning covering dreams. However do all dreams follow this basic ‘hypothetical’ principle of dreams being the mind’s subconscious reactions to the conscious impulses? From where do the grotesque, bizarre and haunted mirages emanate, which often end up as ‘forgotten’ nightmares? When you dream something totally paradoxical to what your prudent ‘moral’ ideology sermonizes, I say it, in a way, overturns few un-heeded darker traits of the real self within. Might sound controversial but without going into detailing of such dreams, I guess most of us do undergo an ideological conflict at some point or the other (thru some dream or the other). And then there are those prevalent dreams of ‘snakes’, ‘self-death’ and ‘half-dreamed limbos’ – plain metaphors beyond the usual conscious stimuli and thus much deeper implications outside the overall human comprehension…!

Whatever be the ‘Inception’s’ storyline and its conclusion, for me the kicking aspect of it, all thru 3 viewings, been the hapless bid on Cobb’s (diCaprio) part to convince himself into reality. In the course of it he would have skepticism surrounding the true state of realism (surrealism?) and have inclination towards repeated POAs (proof of actions) in the form of his totem. That is so much of a directive to our inadvertent course of the life journey wherein each one of us trying to convince ourselves into a custom made framework of universal ‘truth’ and ‘reality’. At the end of the day Cobb’s totem would behave, in its veracity of ‘presumed’ behavior (ie. to rotate endlessly in dreams and vice versa), only the way he has believed it to be. The reality behind realism, dreams and life perhaps transcends the finiteness of human intelligence and I’d leave for any attempted hypothesis on it to the dedicated intellectuals, researchers and oneirologists (dream scientists). The intriguing fascination for me (made even more ardent post ‘Inception’) has been the abstractness of my endless dreams and the interspersed cryptic connotations within… And then there’s that haunting ‘idea’ of relativity of realism! After all an idea of ‘Realism’ has had all of us obsessed with the crux of ‘Reality’ itself.. the idea long planted.. since our births…

Surreal Realism

Feels like the flight into a cosmic territory - beyond the stars, the universe and the space. Into a black hole may be. The traces of an unknown paranoia seem to be lingering alongside; yet this voyage is so ecstatic. The sparks are everywhere that in a way rolling a few familiar pictures upside down. Soon you see these are the reels being linked so closely on part of your flight, traveled thus far. The scenes unify into a full-fledged motion picture which the critics would surely be balking at. Even you’re not gonna interpret it the way it should be... Now the movie unfolds with the shades of your Grand father who long died when you were a kid. Surely a conundrum - where the first face you should’ve seen was that of your most beloved materialistic living entity (whoever fits in!). Perplexed and a touch agitated, you strive to break the labyrinth. The old school stairs suddenly come up yet they don’t lead up to the same school premises. A handful of beer bottles, the most conjured up non-family flicks, the burnt paper sticks and many such queer sequences follow suit. The same old barber in the backyards of your room, who still is there, also seems to have bagged a role in it. The hot-wheels, the He-Mans and the Mario cassettes coupled with the hidden magazines make things much the more nostalgic yet equally mystique… The bid is on, still, to decipher this confusing, metaphoric script…

Back to the origin..(and back again)

an old post that missed being posted!!

In the backdrop of an utter nonsensical run of events surrounding two equally loony idiocies called 'MNK' and 'SN' ('My Name is Khan' and 'Shiv Sena'), the whole of India huffed and puffed; again in the lines of a movement of sorts pioneered by the 'liberal' and the 'free' media! The whole melodrama intrigued the nation to the core and bloggers, columnists, analysts, editors thronged the opinion spaces, full of cries for anti-vandalism and, sadly, for solidarity unto a crapiest movie from the gang of over-boisterous, 'tweeting' super-stars.

Well for me this 'Khan vs Thakre' prime timer doesn't bear any relevance as neither party has the credential of enacting an intellectual upheaval. These are business parties, doing their businesses. (Well do I sound like hinting about something fishy? say a conspiracy theory?) The answer is no. For some reasons, very personal, I adore SRK for the man he is. Let's not get into that. But this whole controversy brought the 'identity crisis' of us Indian, out of the closet all over again.

I am usually intrigued with this sort of fuss (ballyhoo over one's identity), because I don't think there can be an outright version to that. If we keep digging out our own historical backgrounds, we are sure to end up with an all together different identical crisis as against what our current ideology/belief suggests. This is not only about mumbai or any other states, but the whole country at large. Sena's, MNS's issues (ie. advocations for the local causes) have validity as there's that same predicament among my own natives in Assam. The ULFA and some scions of the student unions had adopted the same propaganda some years back against the Biharis (although the actual reason behind the brutal killings had some other credences to it as well). But then the general public ideology was never in sync with those of the hardcore zealots. ULFA is almost conquered now and student unions quickly learnt the sensible ways! “Thrilled to see the fate of the Senas now”. No matter how hard we the liberal brigade campaign against them, it is at the end of the day the general public of mumbai (or for that matter maharashtra) that would define and decide the course of this circus!

Time spawned its way. MNK released. Did far better than it deserved. SN, MNS retreated their 'breaking news' propaganda momentarily. The thrill faded. Politics, business and life.. moved on.

Metallica.. oh yeah!!! My tryst with Rock..

When the music gets tedious, less heavy, gradually pop-bound and an utter oblivion for the hardcores and the wannabes alike, there drops in a number (take my word - just about any no.) and that adrenaline thrust whips back all over again. It is a number, after all, from MetallicA!

The new year eve night was spent on these lines, out in the crowd after a while this time. It's been long. It’s been quite sometime. It’s been incessantly frequent lately. My tryst with rock began a decade ago and it had to come a full circle on this decade-ending night.

Rock n Roll culture had never been relevant during an upbringing and an exposure filled with the archetype of a quintessential perfect society/family/culture. Mom's heartfelt renditions, the old hindi classics, the nadeem shrawans, the jatin lalits and the kumar sanus, the tablas, the harmoniams were all that could come under the musical purview. It was nascent and full. Life was nascent and full. The trails leading onto rock-star-dom however were lingering on, and the door was eventually opened with the advent of 21st century.

The tryst began with the flings: the Boyzones, the Bryan Adams, the Beatles, the Bon Jovis, the Guns n Roses and finally the MetallicA! There's been no looking back since. The fling turned into a full term wedding. The guitar made its way in. The heavy playing pubs/cafes became the routines. The whiskeys and the pitchers, the outlooks endowed with the 'killer' touch and the freaky-urban-lingoes helped explore the all-crazy-happening space - the space beyond the lesser, 'uncool' breeds.. the space beyond the hypocrites.. the space beyond the forced cultural values.. the space beyond the clichés.. Well this was it - the space of us the Rockstars!

Dwelling on, we could see everything drawing a leaf out of its 'blood' laden catalog.. And by 'blood' we mean the naked self! The raw parasite within - the one crawling up the fake materialistic body imbibed relentlessly by the world's hypothetical preachings - the dark, depraved, evil creed the mankind pathetically refuses to lay its eyes on. Yeah by 'blood' we also mean the 'attitude', self indulgence and revolt. We are in a way much more than those stereotypes of the gory devil worshipers. We are in a way the ones 'You' strive to run away from, every single day.. Yeah it’s 'Sad.. but True'!

This hardcore fascination was here to stay. It made further inroads courtesy the much perceived sorry state of affairs of the social crooks. The sarcasm of the 'bloody' mind was now looking down upon the lesser, uncool breeds with even greater disdain. We, and hence in turn I, seemed like a different league all together. A league not everyone could dare in. The night leading the decade's farewell was infused full with this brutal long-found glory. The reverberations of its legacy kept buzzing on.

However, shockingly that night there were others all round! The others, who didn't belong there. I felt an increasingly horrifying paranoia as the clock kept ticking in, seconds closer to the d-hour. They were all there. Those fucking wannabes. There would be senseless ruckus, un-religious head bangings, non-brutal screamings - everything condemnable in the revered 'Rock' community. My paranoia colliding with this unruly hysteria thus created an insurmountable numbness. The lesser breeds had intruded into our space and what I was visioning that very moment was exactly the opposite of the apposite bandwagon I had made my journey into a decade ago. Well a Metallica number started hitting the floor in the background but the numbness was heinous - for the first time in a decade it didn't quite whip the adrenaline thrust. Looking around, developed an uncanny deja vu. Between the silhouettes of the raised 'V's (rather the devil horns) against the blurring low lights, there I saw a moron trying hard to cling on, to something he thinks is grandeur, eccentric.. perhaps close to a decade now. Well the countdown had begun. And then just before the final tick it seemed I strived for one final bid to run away… from him!

Phew… Life was indeed nascent and full then..

smells like true spirit..

It’s an ever engrossing read.. Running errands for each other in this battle of survival. At times depressing; at times content; at times heavenly. There’s no clue to the prologue or any idea about the epilogue. And in the midst of these tumultuous pages, there lies the vignette - of the most beautiful essence we all craving for..

An adaptation of the evergreen ‘summer of 69’- our way!



Click below for the direct utube watch (lyrics included):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnRTKIuOtMQ

Into the Dark and Beyond

"It’s yet another wintry December night… With the same quaint town plunging into its quintessential silence; with the same quirky sounds lingering around the little old pond; and with the exact same moments where even time tends to lend a pause…

It’s dark outside. But a lone neon light hangs over the balcony with just as much luminosity as for us to set out for our yet another juvenile ‘one-drop-catch’ cricket spree. How we wish the wind over the trees could survive all odds and hold on its fervour of joy over each passing winter of our lives. Our game kicks off fine. But then the ball goes a bit too far; past the gate, beyond the mere vicinity of our playground… It’s not clear where it is as the only thing conspicuous is ‘Vivid Darkness’ out and beyond the gate. You concede to take up the onus of bringing it back, considering my lack of nerves for the night, or rather for the dark! So, I guess, there is no conflict. You take the charge. Alone… Across the gate… Into the dark and beyond…

And I decide to wait; wait until you head back. But it’s taking long. I can’t see you across. Nor do I discern the harbinger. I don’t even know if you are around. However I decide against a call for an alert to the others. And thus choose to only stand and hope that you would come out eventually. So I wait. The only neon light standing is now gone too. The darkness pervades everywhere. I look up to the sky; it’s even murkier; and I wonder, “Why the hell there’s no star, no moon tonight?” This adds up to the whole labyrinth of agony, being stoked up with every passing second of the wait. But hang on… This outright darkness is now perhaps making it possible to visualize certain things. A vague shadow seems to be floating out near the gate. I am pretty sure it’s you. Perhaps you’d cross the gate now as it’s been really late. But you stand around. I guess I see you smile. I strive to reach out to you; cry out your name in a voice that, I wish, could ride through the silent nemesis of our abstract subsistence; hold your hand tight so that you walk up the gate fine. But the devils won’t let it be- strangling every bit of my effort to despondency. You still stand and smile. Perhaps you are simply playing around; or perhaps the gate is just too unassailable from the other side…"

The wait is on. Dawn raided that night and many more thereafter. But still the chill of the wintry night remains. People say you’re never gonna cross the gate again. I ought to cave in and get along with this popular belief… I wish I could actually…But the traces of that night are not quite prepared to vanish, as yet, not until the gate is crossed- doesn’t matter which side it is from…

For my brother in peace…
Runjhun
Aug, 1983 – Sep, 2006