A thing of beauty; a joy forever.

There was a large fabric. It was a deep, rich red that reminded him vaguely of blood. Lying on the terrace, it encompassed the entire area and had an air of intransience about it. Little could be done about a fabric that has such immense quality about it, that it convinces you to believe that it must have descended from a certain, influential royal lineage that was now well-diluted with the rest of the commons. It stood out from the rest of the background. The large, herculean hills and the vast, blue sky paled in front of the grandeur of this cloth. Such was the strength and immortality of the red fabric that it commanded respect and passion from the wisest and bravest of all individuals. What can be said, it was red. It was lovely. On going closer, the red seemed softer, extremely soft in fact. The smooth red was creased from the uneven lines that velvet crops up in itself. The edges of the cloth were covered in dull gold embroidery unique to the region. It enveloped the corners and pulled most of the cloth into a subtle embrace. It was delicate handiwork. He put his hand down, carefully and slowly, afraid that his touch might destroy the masterpiece. In a single, sweeping motion he felt the supple cloth giving way to his senses. This had to be it. A single touch confirmed his doubts. He knew this had to be the heirloom he was destined to inherit. The finite possibilities that had seemed to threaten him were now looming ahead with such optimism that was foreign to him. This was the piece of history that he was waiting for; the piece of history that belonged to him. Now he could leave everything he was doing, leave the city even and go. His purpose of living had been to discover the enigma of this wonder, and now that he had, it seemed inconsequential of what would follow. Fulfillment, in the true sense of the word, had been placed in him. The note in his hand that he had crumpled in wonder and surprise, said:

“The journey of the seeker is short;
For what he seeks has been placed in him all along.”

How simple the journey had been. It was all that had ever mattered, all that would matter in the face of eternity. The follower of the path of love shall never falter; such was the immense strength of the emotion. The faith, belief, respect is insignificant, because the feeling matters most. The bravest, coldest, noblest, and the most murderous had failed for the simple reason that they lacked not skill or ability, but compassion.

Revenge or Love: L for Vengeance

We've heard it in movies, in books, in fairy tales.
WE've all heard of an obsessive, possessive almost evil power called love.
I went to see a movie last night, Ghajini. A super-charged up sad tale of a deranged lover? Hell yes. But it was a good movie, complete with the snarls, grunts and the macho body but I am more interested in the theme they have chosen to cover. A man, helplessly and crazily in love, loses his lover to some sick-in-the-head villain. Result? An atrocious combination of a subtle killer in the wrapping up of a sobby old lover boy, a villain who you actually feel sorry for. He goes around killing his enemies, and you sit there and feel your heart wrenching up emotion for the disturbed soul. Now, where have i heard that before? Sweeny Todd for sure. Well, atleast 'Sanjay Singhania' is not cutting up his enemies and serving them in pies. But we can sit and make retching sounds while they perform their heinous acts, 'the wrong acts for the right reasons' (read: Shantaram) and secretly feel our sympathy for them. Also read in newspapers as crimes of passion.
In the end, Sweeny Todd comes out a despicable man, murdering his own love, who was disguised as an old maid. And then do your tears truly flow. The Ghajini character is somehow magically transformed into a child-doting amnesiac. But as you sit and pity these poor men whose lives have taken the beaten and distressing path, you secretly thank the stars to be utterly blessed.

The shackles are undone
The bullet’s quit the gun
The heat that’s in the sun
Will keep us when theres none
The rule has been disproved
The stone it has been moved
The grave is now a groove
All debts are removed

Love makes strange enemies
Makes love well love may please
The soul in a striptease
Hate brought to its knees
The sky over our head
We can reach it from our bed
If let me in your heart
And out of my head

“The journey of the seeker is short;
For what he seeks has been placed in him all along.”

The Seeker : Anvesaka

Heading down the longest path to somewhere,
I bumped into a priest along the way.
"Does this lead to my destiny?", I ask,
"Most certainly!" and hence I trod along,
Down the longest path to somewhere.

On the way, after long,
Passing by a little vendor,
Hesitant, I ask, "Is this the right way?"
With twinkling eyes and a bright smile he replied,
"Definitely! There isn't another." And so I trod on,
Down the path to somewhere.

While walking, somewhere in between,
The defining steps of my route,
I remain unsure,
"Am I heading the right way?", I ask aloud,
"Positively" replied an aged tree with a wink.
And so I trod along.

Then I reach a fork,
Unsure and confused, I look up,
to the heavens for direction.
Tears now in my eyes,
My faith ebbing away,
A voice says, "The answer is within."

The first route, enveloped in roses in full bloom,
A disturbing sing lay at the entrance in full view,
"Pay in Identity."
I look away, unwilling to give myself up
And shamelessly embrace the blasphemy.

The second route, sparse and thorny,
Brown and rocky, but overcrowded,
With disturbed and diseased souls,
Enticing the lame wanderer,
But once again, I look away, unable to enter this path.

But the third route, showed wide open spaces,
Endless blue sky, infinite land,
At the entrance lay a small tabula rasa.
An omen, I say to myself,
A symbol for the unparalleled freedom of my hindered soul,
I rejoice, I step forward and never look back.

"I have reached my destiny", a place of abandon,
Tears flow helplessly down my face,
I know that this is what they all described in the books, movies and scriptures,
I know the intensity and congruity of the moment;
And I feel the wings growing out of my back, and I know,
I am freedom, as freedom is me.

The Price for Freedom

Brightness of the self, light of my mind;
Freedom of thought, the burden of restraint
Oh self of mine, is there no end to the torture to thou?

Change that you did not, you are brave;
Give in, you pronounced blasphemy;
Is there such a noble deed as performed by thou?

Condemn, abandon amongst other woes;
Inflicted on us with considerable hatred,
Why such a heavy price to just be, thou?

Pain and I grieve too, with a heavy heart,
I tell the generations to come,
Hold on to thou self, 'tis too much too lose,
But burying it with pride, 'tis a subtle murder.

Religion of An Agnostic Mind

Faith is a heavy word, belief is gigantic and religion, scary.

There is a feeling deep within me that tells me that faith isn’t born but created the same way respect isn’t demanded but earned. I honestly can understand the existence of a higher power, something above us that is managing us like a well-trained puppeteer, but I cannot guarantee my faith in it. I don’t depend on the workings of this power. I trust in effort and worth. If I work hard for something in life, it is all right for me to expect my reward but on the other hand, if I don’t work for something, I cannot expect a return. It is unlawful and unethical.

Expectance is a menace. How often we find ourselves at the mercy of an argument or break in a relationship when expectations aren’t met. Now, expecting things to happen or expecting people to behave in certain way is not required. We are just allowed our space and rights to do deeds good or bad and the rest is not up to us. If something ought to happen it shall. If it doesn’t, then there is something else waiting for us, something better.

My religion comprises of 5 very basic principles, which I like to live by. It forms my spiritual pyramid:

1. Expectance: don’t have it, don’t foster it or harbor it. It breeds, spreads and destroys.
2. Thievery: do not indulge in any form of it. Stealing materialistic things, lying – stealing someone’s right to the truth, or killing – stealing someone’s right to live.
3. Respect: for people, things, animals, birds etc. For opinions, for matter, for space, for privacy, for other people’s decisions. Do not intrude in a person’s private space – the biggest form of disrespect.
4. Compassion: for all living creatures. We must envelope ourselves in a way that we draw the suffering and troubled, we must prepare ourselves in a way that we can relieve them of their pain in any way we can.
5. Sacrifice: anything as long as it isn’t your identity or who you are. Do not let imposing fools cover you with their thoughts. Create yourself with your own bare hands.

There it is, reflections laid naked. Drown, dip or reject at your own will.

The Peace March :: Because We Can

Place in where thou shalt not find;
That which never belonged.

:::A New Era of Love:::

Let the tears flow, oh seeker there is none else to be found,
Let the anger go, fellow, there is none else to be loved,
Oh, let go of your beloved, can the love be found-
In places where it cannot be nurtured?

Forget those moments of epiphany,
Erase those times of joy,
Cease to believe in the magic of love;
Can the faith be still alive?

Break the chains of blasphemy,
Bite the rays of hope;
Can you really find those flowers in bloom yet again?
Are you afraid of the darkness that looms when alone?

Breathe in a new phase,
Of hope and resurrection;
Breathe in a new surrender,
One to the Almighty of them all.

             Call for peace: is anybody listening?

What a Wonderful World?

If Louis Armstrong were still here, would he still sing the same song?

What words would he use to express the random killing of innocent people and civilians and the ample resources the terrorists have access to?

Would he still believe we live in a wonderful world?

I see grenades of green; red blood too

I see them explode; for me and for you

And I think to myself; what a terrible world.

 

I see terrorists roaming; with the authorities

Dark, gloomy days; dark scary nights

And I think to myself; what a terrible world.

 

The colors of loss, so common; pain so raw,

Are also on the faces; of people going by

I see the NSG saving lives; saying, save them all too,

They’re really saying; India, anything for you.

 

I hear babies cry; watch their parents die,

They’ll learn much more; than I’ll never know

And I think to myself; what a terrible world.

The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

There was a door to which I found no key,

There was a veil past which I could not see;

Some little talk awhile of thee and me,

There seemed - and then no more of thee and me.

Reconciliation: Islam, Democracy and the West

Benazir Bhutto's posthumous publication titled, "Reconciliation: Islam, Democracy and the west", is an important book today. Not because it has the usual charm of the popular woman politician but because it is flagged with deep rhetoric. It is an interesting collection of words expressing the misinterpretation of Islam, the importance of it today and what Pakistan needs to do now. This was her final call for democracy and moderation in the chaotic nation of Pakistan, and it is now even more evident of what Pakistan has lost, a lady despite a tainted past, who could have actually brought about a wind of change with vague echoes of her father's deep seated cries. It is a very important book as it gives various interesting insights on some commonly misunderstood parts of the Quran. Her final words are intense and intelligent. She carefully reconstructs the prolonged debate about the instability of Muslims, portraying them not as a whole and united religion and its followers, but as containing certain backward elements that are hell-bent on destroying the social equilibrium that has been created in the world with so much difficulty.  She raises light to many important points about the intra-muslim clashes between Shi'as and Sunnies, and still between their further sects. It is to be noted that the book was indeed written under 'extra-ordinary circumstances'. I found it highly enlightening, because as a non-muslim it has given me a fresh perspective into Islam. All in all, it is an unconventional sequel to 'Daughter of the East' but at the same time, very Benazir-like in its rhetoric.

Conversation with Self.

So, what do you want?

Freedom

What from?

The insignificant burdens of futile daily existence.

How will you find it?

Escape.

To?

A place where the mind reigns and sprints without restraint.

Why?

Because it is weighing down heavy on my able mind.

Will you find a better place?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Willing to take the chance?

Chance, willing to give my damn life.

Its that important?

Evidently.

More than the people you love? Or rather who love you?

Love is transient. It is an illusion. True love transcends all barriers.

So your heart is either cold or too strong?

I’d prefer in the right place.

And you are sure this is the right decision?

As sure as I’ll ever be, more sure than I’ve ever been.

Finding what you’re looking for doesn’t come with a warrantee or map or expiry date.

I realize that. But I have to try. There are things waiting for me. Better things. Things that go beyond material existence.

Like what?

Like the real salvation I’m looking for. The true freedom of my spirit.

How do you know it’ll make you happy? Finding what it is that you’re looking for?

It’s a chance I’m willing to take. It’s a risk that’s worth it. It’s a way of knowing. It may not be fruitful, but will be educational nonetheless.

For the sake of experience you’re willing to give up everything you’ve worked for?

I dint work for it willingly. I was made to like those things, believe those things, want those things. But now, when I think, I know I don’t want any of it. I don’t need any of it. It doesn’t bother me anymore.

So, your faith is still here?

My faith died the day I tried to renew it.  RIP dear, 28.10.08.

 

 

RIP Sabina Sehgal Saikia

The Delhi Times won't be the same without your article. A lull may pass into creation as I will stare at the space where you used to feature, a wet spot may form itself as a tear will fall unmistakably at the loss we will feel at your demise.

I blame myself for setting too much store by your suggestions and opinions. A gem is lost, a great writer lost. 

You died a sudden and unwarranted death. I pray your husband and children find the strength to live through this.

But this cause of terrorism shall be fought, we will fight because we can and we must.

Let your death not remain futile, but serve as a reminder that terrorism lurks in every ugly corner and claims innocent lives. Let it be the root of our cause, of our struggle which will last long and shall be hard, against the tainted political system in our country.

You will not be forgotten, Sabina, your untimely quietus will linger in the courtyards of our hearts for long. 

-RIP-

Letter to Dr. Manmohan Singh

Dear Sir,

SUBJECT: T FOR TERRORISM, E FOR ENOUGH.

We have been extremely grieved by this tragic incident, but grief is not all we need to express. We are an agitated youth, and we demand that serious action be taken against the gross anti-national elements that are plaguing our country. We are absolutely appalled by the current state of affairs and we expect you as our leader to lead the change and dispel future prospects of such an aggravated situation from occurring again. There seems to be little value placed on the civilian's life. An attack as such on the Parliament invited the best of enforcements immediately. But such a calamity is a result of your callousness, sir. 

What good was your Oxford education if you can't use it to solve the country's gravest problems?

How did you get sleep at night, sir, after any of the blasts? You were content with the way security was 'tightened'?

How do you tolerate this? Can you even imagine the plight of these families who have lost loved ones? The ones who lost brave souls who gave up their lives for this?

We understand that you cannot possibly pick up an AK-47 and stand in front of these spots as a security personnel but you CAN form better laws, reform the law enforcement agencies, make the political process more transparent and buck up the intelligence agencies.

Our faith in the entire political process seems to be ebbing away.

With all due respect, we need you to transform the system and arrange for a stricter law enforcement system. You have us to answer to and you need to justify this. How terrorists armed with extensive ammunition marched into our sea-ports and attacked living symbols of our heritage, the Taj, important landmarks and will walk away unharmed and untouched.

Harsh as this may sound, it's time someone asked these questions. We have tolerated ENOUGH, now NO MORE. You have US to answer to. So you better have some answers for our questions, because someone needs to answer them, and who else other than the PM?

Yours truly,

The Youth of India.

-Chinoculinaryphobia, amongst other Veggie woes-

It’s really funny you see. I hail from an all-vegetarian family including a vegan father. We are known to be slightly outlandish in our Punjabi clan. A  “No thank you, Aunty, I don’t eat chicken, I am vegetarian.” can make all the lectures be directed at you. “How are you even Punjabi if you don’t eat chicken? You aren’t being true to your caste! We are a ‘tagri, khane peene wale log’. Everybody eats chicken!” in my mind, I feebly answer, “ I am Indian, not Punjabi actually, and I don’t feel the need to kill other creatures to satisfy my hunger.”

Most of the time I admire my father for his veganism, it is something I am incapable of (sorry! Just cannot give up the tiramisu!)  But all other times, I pity him. His mantra is ‘eat to live, not live to eat’- as opposed to mine. He is always subject to lectures (in kick-ass Punjabi) from his mom even though he is 53. “You’ve got just this one life to live. God has given you everything, money, a house, a car, and you want to starve yourself.” Therefore, he is not allowed to even mention ill health in her house lest he wants all the attacks at his poor, harmless, and in fact healthy diet.                                     

I can tell you from personal experience that being a vegetarian isn’t a drawback, even if you are traveling or a culinary connoisseur. I have been to US, UK, Italy, Thailand and even China where I have returned with a few extra kilos. Although in Italy, when we asked for veggie food (or cow’s food according to my hard-core non-veggie friends), we got an innocent reply from a confused waiter in his italian accent, “Feesh?”  (read fish) But, seriously, I mean, nothing like a trip to places like these, where vegetarian food is rare, to make you realize the importance of fries and coke at McD or appreciate ‘yellow dal’ at seedy Indian restaurants in little India-towns in disconcerting “phoren” cities.

Before leaving for China, I was amazed to see the number of O’s formed by mouths of surprised friends and family. “What the hell are you going to survive on? Love and Air?” No, I shall travel, see the Great Wall, walk around in the land of Ming, ting and ka-ching very happily sire. Smile, smile, smile. And sure I did, I was quite satisfied with my nutrition intake each day.  Plus, it is a wonderful way to focus on an all-carb diet loaded with ice cream, ice cream and ice cream!

But there are side effects of being vegetarian. Like being assaulted by immature and non-intellectual beings who claim that the ‘chickens were created by God for this purpose. They want to be eaten by us! That’s their aim in life! Otherwise, they are of no use, they will multiply and occupy all the land!’  Excuse me! If you are a useless couch potato not contributing to the country’s GDP, I am not going to cook into a fancy ‘coq au vin’ or ‘Breast of human, sautéed with blah-blah wine served with blah-blah,’ and most certainly will not fight with my cousins over your leg-piece.

The other important side effect is very common amongst innocent veggie freaks. I myself confess to having suffered from this. It called ‘suspicion’ which can be defined as ‘a feeling or belief that someone is guilty of an illegal, dishonest, or unpleasant action’ and especially occurs at places that arouse such feelings such as - a Chinese restaurant. Shittake mushrooms? Treshing? Schulamen? We order, the waiter confirms and we feel a little at peace. But then the order arrives and we begin the testing process. How is the food? Uhmm. Nice. But hey the soup, I think that’s chicken broth. A piece of mushroom in the noodles and ‘See I told you that’s non-veg.’ So, therefore, ‘House of Chinese, Ming garden or the like is not certified as serving vegetarian food in the name of vegetarian. Signed, with authority and in public interest, by the Indian Suspicious Vegetarian Janata Party’ Oh do I see you wincing already? Don’t worry we’re not going to demand for quotas in all institutions nor will we demand you to leave our homeland and look for jobs elsewhere.

All in all, it is interesting experience being vegetarian. For those of us who were feasting on Mother Nature’s greens since time immemorial, we got to say ‘I told you so’ when Pachauri and Gore won the green Nobel. Oh yeah, our chests were bursting with pride! But that isn’t the only advantage we’re going to be getting. When the chickens will take over the world, we have a chance of being spared! As for you, eaters of the poor, harmless creatures will bear the brunt of your unrestrained tummy pangs and will serve as appetizers. ‘Homo sapien a la Vin, avec coleslaw’ anyone?

::The Eternal Lightness of Being::

Be the thunder. Be the rain.

Be what they said you couldn’t ever be.

Be what they said wouldn’t last.

Be what they said would die out fast.

Be what they ridiculed.

Be what they would envy the most.

Be their greatest fear.

Be the meanest tear.

Be their cyclone. Be their hurricane.

Be all the things that cause them pain.

Be that which commands respect.

Be that which inspires compassion.

Be that which draws crowds, be a leader.

Be the reason, be the effect, be the solution.

Be the drama, be the truth, be the infusion.

Be all that want you want to be.

Be all that you’re meant to be.

Epiphany: 0.1

Giving in and letting go.

Watching it all, and watching eternity fly by,

In an instant, you visualize,

All that your life could have been;

But isn’t.

All that you could have had;

But you don’t.

You know that it isn’t over.

The lament has just begun, O feeble soul:

Yours truly has just left.

Your gratitude has just begun, O obtuse soul:

Yours truly doesn’t bother.

The hypocrisy, the pain, the solitude, O wounded soul,

Has just begun!

 We need help. We need to save ourselves from each other, from our neighbors, friends & relatives. We need to help the earth to reclaim it's lost glory. We, the children of Mother Earth, are the light at the end of the tunnel.

If you have everything, where will you keep it?

From: Amoreux de la Vie

To,
Whomsoever it may concern;

I, me myself,
We address
The nation of zealots:
Respected traitors,
Leave us lonely,
Living our dream!
We wish for an
Existence beyond
Your incompetent means.
We keep ourselves,
At safe distance, hesitant,
For we do not want to
Contaminate your land
With our passion for
Dreams and visions combined!
Leave us be; as we shall you.
The fire for thought shall fuel us through.

Sui-Trapped!

Ahh! The woes of those misunderstood,
Burning and ashy, like stale wood,
Trapped in the tales of apocryphal lies,
Buried beneath innumerous tries.

Clean your act! Tell those who care!
My life is not for you to stare!
Pass them comments! Spread the trash!
Before your eyes, beholder, I shall not crash.

I’ll keep me hidden; I’ll keep me safe,
Protect thyself, like a warrior brave
Disclosing thee, a treacherous act!
Negotiation? Shan’t make no pact.

Blasphemy bites the true patriot,
Who can’t let her companions rot,
But who shall have to face them tall,
Someday, finally; once and for all.

Lessons from IGI

Humming along the radio, come to think of it, I can’t remember exactly what song it was. One of those on 95 FM that play all the time I guess. We pulled over right next to the trolleys. And I took in a lot more breath than I needed. I was overwhelmed!

It seemed all of Delhi’s population was here. At the Indira Gandhi International Airport for their own righteous reasons I guess. Indians have this tendency to be over-hospitable. They also have tendencies to offer love to everybody. I mean everybody. So you’ll notice that at the Airport you’ll find not only the traveler, but also his/her large extended family. Anyway coming back to my story, we offloaded all the luggage and I went searching for a trolley to load the entire luggage onto. I started running after the Trolley Man and ended up running in a circle only to find my brother standing at the end of it with a trolley right next to him. Yeah just great, I thought, if you wanted to get the trolley yourself why was I sent to stretch my muscles? Right so we stood next to the entry then – My mom, my dad, my sister and I. Just then I realized the beauty of the airport. The colossal number of people and the kinds of them! There was the student like my sister going abroad for higher education, there were the other clueless ones looking for a familiar face, the really smart ones in their Berkeley and Harvard sweatshirts, the working professionals with their “oh-so-bored” expressions like they’ve done this every day of their lives, the first time travelers with their nervous expressions like a dragon is going to jump at them from behind one of the suitcases and eat them. Then there were people like the rich, loaded young ones going to splurge all of Daddy’s hard-earned money, with their entire branded outfit and “spoilt” written all over them, the mismatched inter-racial couples, the workers, the businessmen, the foreigners wondering how the hell they got trapped in this damn “third-world” country. And then there were people like me, coming to leave their loved ones. Looking at my watch, I realized it was time to say our goodbyes; she had to go if she wanted to catch her plane on time. So I pulled my sister, my sibling, my best friend, my mom-in-disguise, my adviser, my love, the one in my life who mattered to me the most, in a bone crushing hug that seemed to last an eternity. It was one of the defining moments of my life. Words weren’t required; they would’ve ruined that moment, all that we needed to say, we said through the warmth and love that flowed through our bodies in that embrace. I couldn’t possibly describe what I was feeling that time, a mix of sadness, helplessness, happiness for her, anger, depression, and a load of other emotions that I didn’t even know existed. And she walked, walked away from me, and I knew once she’s gone through the door, that was it. Next time we would be seeing each other would be 4 months from now. And just before going through that door she turned around and gave me that smile of hers that lifted my spirits completely.

We slowly walked back to the parking where our car was stationed. We climbed in and waited for her call to say she’d boarded the flight. So we turned on the radio in the meanwhile and then came one of the most beautiful instants of my life. In the beautiful, deep silence of the parking lot, Palash Sen sang. Sang for all his sorrow, he sang of lost love, he sang of his love leaving his life, of good days, bad days, of life with her and without, and how he missed her. The sole voice of Euphoria’s lead singer rang through the car and throughout the innermost depths of our hearts. His lyrics touched the cords of the symphony of our hearts and spoke of exactly how we were feeling but couldn’t say. That’s were I found the strength I was going to need in the next 4 months of my life, to keep going on, to keep fighting and surviving, to keep conquering and loving. In the deep and melodious rhythm of “Maeeri-Euphoria” I found what my soul was truly looking for, I found bliss, salvation and the true meaning of everything around me. I seeked the truth of life, and found it not in religion, not in devotion, not in the Himalayas, not with the Gurus but in the simple power of a song.

Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Review!

It's a bitter satire based on the metamorphosis of a rationally stable individual to a manic, heinous cannibalistic killer. Johnny Depp has once again proved his brilliance and mettle as an actor. It revolves around Benjamin Barker (Johnny Depp) who is sent on exile as a result of the lust of the evil Aristocracy, for a crime he didn't commit. Years later, he returns illegally under an alias as Sweeney Todd and sets out to find his family. But he learns that his wife is long dead & his daughter, the ward of the evil Judge Turpin. So, he sets out to take revenge and reunite with his daughter. This is art cinema at its best. A musical, it explores the mystique of the dark side of our conscience. If you can bear the cooking & serving of human beings as Meat Pies, murder for revenge & intense emotion, this movie may be right for you as not everybody can appreciate such a gruesome theme. What is actually moving about this movie is the constant conflict between the quest for vengeance and rationality. The beauty lies in the way the Director has handled such a disturbing story. The movie explores the reasons that made him a killer and points to the society being responsible for provoking him to become such a monstrous & barbaric murderer. It leaves you with some serious food for thought; to what extent would YOU go to seek revenge for harm done to someone you love?

Spare me the despotic mall monster!

Ahh. Another new day at school. Another long day of studies and teachers droning about the importance of class 12 boards. Yes, I, a class 12 student have umpteen number things to do rather than sit and write this article. But no.

Its all related you see. On my way to school every morning I used to see a vast expanse of about 20 acres or more of lush greenery. Green and large. What a pleasing sight to the city eyes that are accustomed to dirty grey.  Well, what I see now is an uber-luxury mall, totally high end. Yes, I do see the Louis Vuitton displays and sigh. Yes I would love one too. And then I see a Dior showroom. A mall custom made only for the super rich and fabulously wealthy. But what is wrong with that you may ask. Such a large expanse of land, right in the middle of the city, bang in the middle of posh south Delhi, WASTED on yet another mall. I ask, where will this frenzy for an overestimated and exaggerated shopaholic generation end? 10 years from now this mall would be crumbling under lack of maintenance. Pure misuse of space. When I was younger I dreamt of buying the land and building sky-scraping rollercoasters. But that was not to be, land was sold to DLF, my dream was shattered but I acquired a new one. The Delhi Govt. needs its vision checked. Definitely not a 6 on 6. This large piece of beautiful land bang opposite JNU should have been employed for building important units such as more educational facilities. Since rollercoaster’s are out of the picture, a fully equipped, Wi-Fi enabled, super modern college would have been perfect. Kind of like a new and integrated South Campus for the deteriorating Delhi University. If not a college, how about improving the current useless sports stadiums that flank the Capital. I have been to a stadium in North Delhi, which is the centre of all national level sport activity. It houses the dirtiest and smelliest bathrooms with shit splashed on the walls. Not only is cleanliness lacking here, but also everything is defying gravity. Wow. So much for Delhi 2010!

Why would you employ such a large expanse of land for a lost purpose? Its beyond me. I am a commerce student but don’t try and explain the economic well-being by way of consumerism and demand to me. If you’re fashion obsessed, don’t try to tell me that the only proper outlets for all these unaffordable brands are nowhere else. Seriously, no thanks, Mr. Jimmy Choo not your outlet or a Gucci. That’s not we need. We need better social infrastructure which a trendy patent leather with LV splashed all over, will not provide. 

Music Is My Savior

Usually, whenever I heard Jal (Pakistani Band) perform, or even when I went for a Them Clones’ silly park concert I felt it.  It was like a feeling that would be so difficult to describe. It was just there. It gave me a high. Just like to a crack addict. It felt like the highest state of being; it felt like liberation for my cramped soul. The musical notes broke the tight shackles that surrounded my existence. In that moment nothing mattered except the here and now. It felt as though as though the pressure of time was colliding with the happiness bursting through me. I could feel my soul seeking atonement and emancipation through my voice, loudest that I could make it, but insignificant in the crowd. It gave me a newfound confidence that made me feel as though I could take on the world. All my sins and my sorrows seemed to dissolve in the guitar riffs. It was nirvana in the true sense of the word. It made everything else seem inconsequential and unimportant. Music was the true savior of the disturbed; music was the real God. I couldn’t play a note to save my life, but I can say with conviction that I am the most religious devotee. I always wondered to myself why normal religious practices and spiritual talks didn’t inspire me. Why my feeling for such things would always be nonexistent and useless. It was then that I realized I was taken by the different kind of God: the kind that presented itself through musical instruments, through the voices of the musicians. It was the kind that asked for nothing in return. It was logical. It didn’t believe in superstition, it didn’t ask for numerous hours in a church or temple. The temple that it required was within us. It was in the ears, mind and heart of those who could actually sense the music. It was an experience higher in awakening than any other instance. Nothing could be same anymore because it converted all its devotees to fundamentalists looking for a different kind of “jihad”. We were the followers who just seeked fulfillment through sounds on the radio, TV or iPods. We were stanch converts looking for a meaning and searching for a kind of solace only music could provide. I wish it would’ve lasted forever. However, all good things come to an end, and so did the concert.

But recently when I went for another concert of a band I particularly loved, I didn’t feel it anymore. I searched and searched for that “feeling” that usually presented itself, unasked for, in my heart. But that day was inauspicious. It didn’t arrive. Not even when I begged. I felt stripped and cheated. Stripped of the beautiful experience I knew belonged only to me, and cheated because it was taken away from me. I can’t begin to describe the sense of loss I felt. I was scared because it didn’t come. The concert was over and my devotion didn’t reap its rewards. I was shocked, hurt and betrayed.  Such was the power of anything that you loved and felt so strongly, that it had the authority to hurt and betray you without reason and still come back later and be taken in. I wonder why I was being taken away from the one thing I could still feel and experience, why my identity was being played with. My sense of wonder, joy and fulfillment that was reserved for the greatest of all Gods was on a journey to far away, with no return flight ticket. It was all I could do to weep, and wallow for the loss of a friend that kept you going in times of happiness and sorrow, in times of thunder and rain, in moments of accomplishment and epiphany, in situations of loneliness and loss. It was all mine, and it was gone.