I spent today, mostly very angry. Most of this anger was directed at well, mostly everyone around me, not outwardly, but well, inwardly. This anger, its a new side of me, or rather a renewed side of me that well i had worked very hard to get rid of.
I grew up around Indians. I quite like Indians, mostly because I am one. Then there were the westerners on the tele, and obviously at college. At college I met the Internationals. There were the Asians, the Africans, the South-Asians, the Americans, the Jocks, the Jews, the Christians, the Britons, the Scottish, the Hicks. I met the Indian-Canadians, who looked Indian, but thought Canadian. I went back home and I met the infamous "Locals". I met the gays and I met the hippies.
And I managed to meet everyone in between too...
People fling the word 'diversity' around like its a chipmunk on crack sitting on a windmill... and people seem to carry their culture on their skin. You know how in school they tell you that 'everyone is special in their own special way', diplomatically using the word special instead of different...
Well the truth is that everyone is different. Their circumstances are different. And throughout the course of my "anger day", I noticed only one thing. I was angry because all of these people around me were not like me. They spoke differently, they walked differently, they had a different body language, they wore different clothes... and I kept wondering why. Why can't they be more like me.
But then it comes to me in a rush of epiphanyness...
The problem isn't with the people around me....
*aah cliche bullshit to follow... cant think of nice words to put it in... so just fill in the last bit yourself... *
i feel better now... less anger... lighter....
Monday, September 7, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Last night...
The world is so much bigger than me....
The music, the living, the thoughts, the perfection... we strive to believe that which we have achieved... that which we have not discovered, has been discovered. Our eyes have been deceived by the intoxication of the upheld. The qualms of the public have raped me of my identity and of my choice. There is no identity left here.
On the risk of turning into a cynic, i shall criticize the minuteness of myself in this world. I shall criticize the minuteness of my voice and of my person. Why do I think the things i do. They are because of you. I fucking hate you.
But I touch you. I touch you and i feel magic. I feel the electricity run through my fingers and into you. I feel you feel me. I feel your voice penetrate me. I cant find the words... I just can’t find the words....
My world is different from yours... but my heart is intertwined with yours. I feel what you feel. But i must leave my ego at the door to hear your voice... i must let go of myself to let you in... you will be forever lost in the noise of my silence if i don’t hear you... I must hear you... i long to hear you...
I, Me, Myself... when does this story leave me... when am i free from myself... when can I see me in your light, in your eyes, in you...Now, I feel that i am you. I feel that you are me. My voice comes out of you... you cannot say anything that will harm me... you are in sync with me... I cannot help but break down in tears when i am reminded of you. I need to stop here and remember you... pure... sweet... like thick, intoxicating honey....
I am lost because i cant find the words. So i will borrow them. I will try and then i will err. I will search the deepest corners of my soul... Don’t hear my words... hear me feel.. hear me suffer... hear it in my voice, but don’t hear my words.
The music, the living, the thoughts, the perfection... we strive to believe that which we have achieved... that which we have not discovered, has been discovered. Our eyes have been deceived by the intoxication of the upheld. The qualms of the public have raped me of my identity and of my choice. There is no identity left here.
On the risk of turning into a cynic, i shall criticize the minuteness of myself in this world. I shall criticize the minuteness of my voice and of my person. Why do I think the things i do. They are because of you. I fucking hate you.
But I touch you. I touch you and i feel magic. I feel the electricity run through my fingers and into you. I feel you feel me. I feel your voice penetrate me. I cant find the words... I just can’t find the words....
My world is different from yours... but my heart is intertwined with yours. I feel what you feel. But i must leave my ego at the door to hear your voice... i must let go of myself to let you in... you will be forever lost in the noise of my silence if i don’t hear you... I must hear you... i long to hear you...
I, Me, Myself... when does this story leave me... when am i free from myself... when can I see me in your light, in your eyes, in you...Now, I feel that i am you. I feel that you are me. My voice comes out of you... you cannot say anything that will harm me... you are in sync with me... I cannot help but break down in tears when i am reminded of you. I need to stop here and remember you... pure... sweet... like thick, intoxicating honey....
I am lost because i cant find the words. So i will borrow them. I will try and then i will err. I will search the deepest corners of my soul... Don’t hear my words... hear me feel.. hear me suffer... hear it in my voice, but don’t hear my words.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Bombay? What's that?
And so my July finally comes to an end. In short, the trip was hectic…. Delhi was ‘chiller’ as they say, and to a certain extent, a decent eye-opener of sorts. I remember snatches Lok-Sabha TV afternoons and reading about Munna – The White Tiger… chilling with Rhea and Rohin… breaking my ankle at that bumpy half-court game (still hurts ☹)… shopping for rubbish at Janpat with mum n Tara… chilling with the Grandparents…. Getting repeatedly lectured for my hair… you know how it is….
And then there was Mumbai…. Where oh where do I begin… First some common misconceptions to be cleared up… They say that there is no place equivalent to the madness that is Mumbai. I beg to differ. If not as chaotic, Delhi definitely gives Mumbai a run for its money… The roads are lawless, the people are rash, everyone does whatever the hell he or she wants to and still, miraculously, the city runs with steaming fervor….
Ok… so back to Mumbai… wow… I am exhausted… Mumbai is MASSIVE… and it always helps to have a local to show you around. So due credit and big ups to my very own Nikhil Bhaya for showing me some of the most awesome faces of Mumbai. The first thing that I discovered was the local music scene. That in itself is another post altogether; maybe my next Indian Reverb update =) Anyway, brilliant musicians with an awesome sense of camaraderie and respect in a very tough and stubborn industry. I have a bunch of new bands to check out and I’m quite excited to put it mildly…
And then there was Toto’s Garage…. And then there was The Ghetto…. And then there was Ghokul… and then there was The Blue Frog… and then there was The Crazy Auto Guy with mothers of speakers that took up half of his little tricycle… and then there was India’s Got Talent…. I can go on and on and on and on… but in this post… I want to talk about my two favorite places in Mumbai
The first, and probably the most clichéd, is Marine Drive… Marine Drive is probably my most favorite place to chill out at in the world…. The wind and the sprinkles of water from the rocks…. The plain simplicity of feeling the wind running through your hair and the sound of the waves thrashing against the breakers…
There are two states of mind that you could fall into. One is that of complete blankness. All I can think about is the water, and all I can feel is the breeze in my face. In the distance I pick out a wave and see it swim towards me and then collapse into a nothingness. The second is a state of utter confusion - thoughts from all directions entering my mind, none of them complete, just ideas for the coming days and flashes from random moments in the past, and this present stands frozen in a daze…
It begins to lightly drizzle and now you are completely in a trance with these exotic sensations, feeling the rain peck against your skin… whiffs of the gobar smell entering your nose… the wind playing with your body as if you were a feeble kite made out of twigs and newspaper… that’s Marine Drive….
My second favorite place in Mumbai is the 6 inches of foothold on the edge of the local trains. Actually, the whole ritual of pushing and shoving for a place on the train, then hanging out of the train or being mulled by the stink and sweat of other fellow hairy local-train using Indians and then getting flung out of the train whether or not its your stop is probably one of the most fun and at the same time, physically exhausting things I’ve ever done.
However, if you do manage to get onto the right train that is going in the right direction and you are fortunate enough to be on the edge of the cabin with enough foothold for one and a half of your feet, you will be in for a journey across town like no other ☺. Such a simple traveling act can become sooo dramatic because all of a sudden, you are holding on, literally, for dear life… and lets not forget the metal bars on the side of the railway tracks that come coolly close to separating one half of your body from the other…
To top it all off, you can add the incessant chugging noise of a stubborn machine that should have retired 25 years ago but refuses to give up. And then obviously, some ‘hip’ commuter will be blasting old RD Burman and Asha Bhosle tunes from his Nokia N95 or his iPhone.... And you can smell nothing but the dirt and sweat that has been embedded in the clothes of all the people that surround you over years and years of train-usage, like a legacy passed on from one generation of commuters to the next.
Sheer Brilliance
And then there was Mumbai…. Where oh where do I begin… First some common misconceptions to be cleared up… They say that there is no place equivalent to the madness that is Mumbai. I beg to differ. If not as chaotic, Delhi definitely gives Mumbai a run for its money… The roads are lawless, the people are rash, everyone does whatever the hell he or she wants to and still, miraculously, the city runs with steaming fervor….
Ok… so back to Mumbai… wow… I am exhausted… Mumbai is MASSIVE… and it always helps to have a local to show you around. So due credit and big ups to my very own Nikhil Bhaya for showing me some of the most awesome faces of Mumbai. The first thing that I discovered was the local music scene. That in itself is another post altogether; maybe my next Indian Reverb update =) Anyway, brilliant musicians with an awesome sense of camaraderie and respect in a very tough and stubborn industry. I have a bunch of new bands to check out and I’m quite excited to put it mildly…
And then there was Toto’s Garage…. And then there was The Ghetto…. And then there was Ghokul… and then there was The Blue Frog… and then there was The Crazy Auto Guy with mothers of speakers that took up half of his little tricycle… and then there was India’s Got Talent…. I can go on and on and on and on… but in this post… I want to talk about my two favorite places in Mumbai
The first, and probably the most clichéd, is Marine Drive… Marine Drive is probably my most favorite place to chill out at in the world…. The wind and the sprinkles of water from the rocks…. The plain simplicity of feeling the wind running through your hair and the sound of the waves thrashing against the breakers…
There are two states of mind that you could fall into. One is that of complete blankness. All I can think about is the water, and all I can feel is the breeze in my face. In the distance I pick out a wave and see it swim towards me and then collapse into a nothingness. The second is a state of utter confusion - thoughts from all directions entering my mind, none of them complete, just ideas for the coming days and flashes from random moments in the past, and this present stands frozen in a daze…
It begins to lightly drizzle and now you are completely in a trance with these exotic sensations, feeling the rain peck against your skin… whiffs of the gobar smell entering your nose… the wind playing with your body as if you were a feeble kite made out of twigs and newspaper… that’s Marine Drive….
My second favorite place in Mumbai is the 6 inches of foothold on the edge of the local trains. Actually, the whole ritual of pushing and shoving for a place on the train, then hanging out of the train or being mulled by the stink and sweat of other fellow hairy local-train using Indians and then getting flung out of the train whether or not its your stop is probably one of the most fun and at the same time, physically exhausting things I’ve ever done.
However, if you do manage to get onto the right train that is going in the right direction and you are fortunate enough to be on the edge of the cabin with enough foothold for one and a half of your feet, you will be in for a journey across town like no other ☺. Such a simple traveling act can become sooo dramatic because all of a sudden, you are holding on, literally, for dear life… and lets not forget the metal bars on the side of the railway tracks that come coolly close to separating one half of your body from the other…
To top it all off, you can add the incessant chugging noise of a stubborn machine that should have retired 25 years ago but refuses to give up. And then obviously, some ‘hip’ commuter will be blasting old RD Burman and Asha Bhosle tunes from his Nokia N95 or his iPhone.... And you can smell nothing but the dirt and sweat that has been embedded in the clothes of all the people that surround you over years and years of train-usage, like a legacy passed on from one generation of commuters to the next.
Sheer Brilliance
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Rebirthing... the slow, painful, and cheaper way :)
I think I’m over the traumatic loss of my last week’s update… maybe I will blog about the loss of a memoir some other time…
Right now I’m on my way from Delhi to Mumbai on a plane, again… Maybe I should just fly around on planes for literary motivation because I always feel compelled to write when I’m flying hiiiiigh (literally speaking of course…) Just noticed that there is a fly on/in the plane… haha…. The irony :D …. I wonder if he knows he is going to a totally different world…. And he gets to fly completely free of cost…. Aaah… what a sweet life :D
Anyway, the first few minutes of this particular trip were quite fun…. I’m at a window seat and I just RE-realized how amazingly awesomely fun and cool it is to just stare out of a plane’s window as it takes off… as the huge trucks become tinier and tinier until they are miniature plastic toys… and you get all excited when you see a swimming pool or a golf course….
And as you get higher up, you can see the crop fields…. Huge rectangles and squares with perfectly straight borders….
And then you can see the cluster of houses and how all the roads seem to be radiating from them like little earthworms crawling away from each other
And then you are enveloped by soft cotton puffs of water…
And then you float on them for a while, as if the plane is not a plane, but actually a boat…
And you imagine this to be what heaven must look like….
How I long to get on the other side of this double glazed oval glass window and be swallowed by the fluffy white candy floss....
Right now I’m on my way from Delhi to Mumbai on a plane, again… Maybe I should just fly around on planes for literary motivation because I always feel compelled to write when I’m flying hiiiiigh (literally speaking of course…) Just noticed that there is a fly on/in the plane… haha…. The irony :D …. I wonder if he knows he is going to a totally different world…. And he gets to fly completely free of cost…. Aaah… what a sweet life :D
Anyway, the first few minutes of this particular trip were quite fun…. I’m at a window seat and I just RE-realized how amazingly awesomely fun and cool it is to just stare out of a plane’s window as it takes off… as the huge trucks become tinier and tinier until they are miniature plastic toys… and you get all excited when you see a swimming pool or a golf course….
And as you get higher up, you can see the crop fields…. Huge rectangles and squares with perfectly straight borders….
And then you can see the cluster of houses and how all the roads seem to be radiating from them like little earthworms crawling away from each other
And then you are enveloped by soft cotton puffs of water…
And then you float on them for a while, as if the plane is not a plane, but actually a boat…
And you imagine this to be what heaven must look like….
How I long to get on the other side of this double glazed oval glass window and be swallowed by the fluffy white candy floss....
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Shit happens.....
i had written a bunch of shit on the fifteen hour plane-trip to India about a week ago and had it ready to upload as soon as I could... It has now disappeared from my computer and I'm guessing, from existence....FML
oh well...
oh well...
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