Happiness misconstrued….

Diwali the festival of lights.. lamps..and life…. It would never be the same again…as I stood on the terrace of my office in green park in Delhi.. that cold autumn evening.. I had a feeling that something had changed forever.

Everything around me was different.. I was trying to pick up the pieces of what ever was left… but there wasn’t anything left to salvage.. or was there.. I was trying to make a fresh start… I had no where to go.. just me and this new job…
I have always hated Delhi.. but this time it was different… the sun had gone down… and the city had come to life… the season of festivities was a sunrise away and for once this mad house of a city felt beautiful… I was almost done for the day… and soon I would have to go back to this lill room I was going to call home for a month. I was living alone and there was nothing or no one to go back home to…

It was Diwali and I was alone…and I hated it… but the lights and the ocean of people around me.. all busy trying to be happy was comforting. But really, was everyone happy? I have always believed that happiness is a relative concept… I have been searching for the same for the longest time…I had everything I needed to survive...but was I happy? And then what about those who couldn’t afford the materialistic needs and demands of this festival.? I have always wondered how the poor and the destitute worked around festivals like Diwali… maybe its their simplicity which gets them through it… or maybe they find their happiness in the fortunate others. I never really found an answer to that question but maybe that’s all I wanted to that night. That answer..

Diwali for me as a child was all about lights.. fire crackers … sweets and new clothes… it was a time where the whole family got together and celebrated life.. but as a kid I never thought about the less fortunate ones.. how did they go about this… wasn’t it torture… really.. watching the world around you being happy in their materialistic existence..? these were questions I needed answers for.. this was my new mission.. my new reason to live.
Living life everyday as it comes is tougher than most can imagine, you have to constantly look for reasons to get you through the day, motivation is a huge factor and answers and reasons for survival don’t come by easy. But suddenly I had this new reason….

It was dark by the time I stepped out of office, I was still in my white shirt and grey trousers and I was a wee cold, I wished for a jumper, It was going to be a long cold winter ahead, and I could already feel it. The streets were buzzing with people… the shops were brightly lit up.. selling their lill goodies.. sweets.. dry fruits… gifts… I had never seen Delhi this happy…and for some strange reason that euphoria was rubbing onto me. I must have walked a mile.. my grey bag and me.. when I chanced upon this lill slum. A collection of hutments all built from scraps buzzing with activity. The poorest of poor called it their home… I stood across that lill township, searching for the answer searching for happiness in its unadulterated form… I couldn’t see much.. but I could smell the food they were cooking, the smell of kerosene cooking stoves and lentils.. an odor common to these hutments. I had nothing better to do.. so I found my self this spot and made my self comfortable. A small city within a city.. that’s what I was looking at… But why was I here… What was I looking for? I really didn’t know? Maybe I was searching for happiness in those homes… the glimmer of hope that maybe this festival was not just about material satisfaction and happiness could not be bought with money…maybe ….

The sound of a crying infant.. the constant clatter of utensils.. the melodious voice of a drunk lost in his lill untouchable yet inescapable world… were all music to my ears… yet I couldn’t see the festivities.. I couldn’t find what I was looking for.. maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough?. There I was looking at this world I found myself fortunate not to be a part off within a world of celebrations.. the occasional burst of a distant fire cracker bringing me back to the reality that lay sprawled in front of me. Sitting there on that cold November evening I was losing hope of finding any answer or any happiness, it all looked bleak and I wanted to walk away.. just go back to my wee room and spend my night taking in Delhi in all its stupor…till I saw this dark silhouette collecting some scraps and putting them together, and before I knew it this one man had managed to put together a bonfire… a big beautiful fire.. it was alive… its lill shadows dancing on the faces that it attracted. I could finally see them…all of them... one by one… they all found themselves being drawn towards this fire… a new life had been infused in that hutment.

There were happy faces everywhere… children dancing… and then some one turned up the music.. it was loud and just not my kind… but it seemed to influx an enthusiasm I had never seen before. The old … the young… families… friends… they were all there… together.. a sense of existence in all its harmony loomed large. Diwali the festival of lights was spreading its infectious tentacles over these people... those very people who seemed to own nothing but their pride and their exuberance towards life. They seemed happy.. happy to be alive.. to be able to take in something as simple as the joys of a fire and togetherness, especially when the world around them was spending millions just to burn it all the next night. It was liberating.. a feeling which most including me could not or would not understand…I had seen enough.. I was happy…I was smiling… I had seen happiness in its unadulterated form… I had seen togetherness.. I had seen it all…

Of Bagpipes and Scotch...

Welcome to Scotland… the only things that come to ones mind( mine rather) when you mention the word ‘Scotland’…. Are Bagpipes and Scotch… and maybe even William Wallace... (distorted images of Mel Gibson dressed in a kilt out to get the English).
Maybe the only reason why I love Scotland… the bag pipes and the scotch… every afternoon I am treated to an exhilarating ensemble of men dressed in kilts playing the bag pipes in all their glory outside my window… I can shut my eyes and picture the Scottish highlands and feel the cool breeze against my face... the music is relaxing and liberating. Its something about those kilts and that soul crunching music… actually it might be the scotch… really…there ain't a better feeling in the world.. than sipping on some scotch and hearing men in skirts play a bag full of pipes.

Patsy’s paradise…

The Irish countryside… I fell in love with it the second I got there… the stark emptiness… the trees.. the open fields… words cannot do justice to the images flashing in my wee head…
There I was sitting on the back seat of my friend’s car driving through Belfast.. the land of Bono… IRA… and Guinness… yes I was in Ireland.. and I was off to meet Patsy the Pirate.

Well Patsy wasn’t really a pirate.. but I imagined him as one( my imagination is quite warped).. Now who really was Patsy?.. well Patsy is someone I would love to be in 30 years from now… I had been graciously invited over to his wee den for an evening of music.. tea and weed. A heady mix don’t you think?

As I stood at his door … I really didn’t know what to expect.. I frankly just had weed on my mind… I hadn’t smoked up for the longest time.. and I really needed to free my head.. my thoughts.. I was at the lowest ebb of my fruitless existence(mid life crisis).. and really I all I needed was that liberation.. that unadulterated freedom…

The door opened ever so slowly and lo behold…..he stood in front of me in all his glory.. Patsy… a man I can never forget… dressed in a loose black shirt with his hair combed back… nervously I entered his wee den.. his paradise…and what lay in front of my eyes was nothing short of a pirates den.

His lill chair.. the Persian rug.. a vast array of swords… books I had never imagined existed… and just about everything that Patsy had collected and conquered over the years from traveling across the world.

I sat on this wee chair sipping on some black tea and smoking some weed… I was high..( I almost always am)…but this was different…Pink Floyd playing in the back ground.. the dim red light…. And an unfinished canvas… which as it would have it was the topic of our discussion for the longest time…

Strangely so… it wasn’t the canvas.. I guess it was the weed.. our minds had been freed from the shackles of our mundane existence and was lost in the depth of that unfinished canvas… silver blue streaks across a white background… we all construed it in our own twisted ways.. but it was exhilarating just sitting there and hearing Patsy talk… about anything and everything… his days as a drummer.. his first Beatles concert and even about that unfinished canvas…

The evening was over before I knew it.. but images of Patsy and his paradise still flash through my mind .. that unfinished canvas.. (which I am sure will stay that way for all time to come).. the music.. the old black and white pictures of Patsy in his younger days.. all of it and more…
I might never meet Patsy again… but that evening he liberated me… he maybe even gave me a reason to live … that was Patsy… the pirate.. I can close my eyes and picture him standing on a deck of an old ship out to conquer the world…

Enslaved by Education….

Sometime in May 2006

Am a slave… a victim of my own choices and existence... these books... these notes... these pages... all these inane words... the black and the white...they don’t make sense to me… I keep turning the pages and they keep coming back at me....page after page like plague... my study is my play ground... Where I play with those words… those pages... but I’d rather burn them all... tear them... and throw them out of my window...
My room's a disaster... there are pages strewn all over... books on the floor... ‘post- its’ everywhere... reminding me of this insanity... this pain I am a victim off...at the end of it all I don’t care a fuck if Security Council resolution 1327 or 1368 made any diff.... all I care is that.. These books and pages and everything else around me is driving me mad….. Let’s all ban education arghhhh!!…

Those Ten Minutes…

3rd April 2006

I love these ten minutes... they don't seem to end... maybe its a perception... maybe its not...maybe its just me.... life is too slow anyways.... time stands still... my cup of coffee is still full.. except there is no coffee in it... this room is full of people though I cant see anyone... guess that's my life....its all bout those ten minutes....isn't it?? This song... it keeps playing over and over again...epitomizes my life...I wanna sleep... but there is no bed.... these ten minutes don't seem to end... I wanna break free and step out of these ten minutes....but it seems a distant dream...
I have lived in this hope... for a long time...and it seems like forever now... I don't even know when i started living those ten minutes... and I have no clue when it will end... it’s been a long lonely journey... but I seem to love it more and more... I am getting addicted to it... I guess…though I wouldn't really know... what would I do if I ever stop living those ten minutes...

The Eyes of a Killer...

28th November 2005

The more I have thought bout writing this... the more I have been dissuaded from doing so....there are and were enough unanswered questions…back then and they still exist in all their glory....

Back Ground
I was not born to be a lawyer... I guess no one was...except for Ram Jethmalani and Kapil Sibal... I was born to be a cricketer... (As mentioned in my previous posts)... but when I wasn't even selected in the school team... I gave my whole career option a rethink... and somehow landed in Law School..... it was a loong loong time back now... but the one question that kept coming up again and again... was... dude... will you ever defend a criminal... and I never had an answer and surprisingly I still don't....

Its not like I never thought about it... I did... but my ‘surdi’ brains…never had an answer... finally after years of deliberation... I made a pact to my self...it was more to appease my morals than anything else... I had decided to defend the small time criminals but never the big bad ganstas... or murderers.... but before I knew it... my pact went rolling down a drain and I found my self... facing my first murder trail.

After having spent 4 months in criminal litigation...I realized it was a bad bad world out there... a world I had seen in some C grade Hindi movies... (Truck Driver Suraj, starring Mithun da)... a world that always excited me... a world that always scared me... and before I knew it I stood face to face with it....Most of my clients in the first 4 months were petty thief's.... accused of allegedly stealing.. car stereos... spare parts from trucks... tool kits from bikes... there was nothing moral about defending them... they were poor and all needed money (at least I made my self believe that)... so I had no qualms defending them.... I didn't own a car or a stereo system...a bike or a tool kit... or even a truck...to be scared to be one of their victims... I knew I was making the world an unsafe place by getting all these kids or guys back on the streets..... but I loved my job... and it was a high... it was better than dope... (maybe not).... but it was a high alright....

Then one morning... everything changed....my boss handed me a file... it was blue... looked completely harmless....( I only got the case coz she had issues she needed to deal with( construe that as liberally as possible) but all the same I was excited as hell.. yeah it was a murder case...and my first.. I left the file on my table... and left for court... not thinking bout it all day... I left it for my special evening moment... the day passed me by even before I knew it...evening dawned upon me and so did the impending file... I was excited and scared... it was more like the feeling ya have before going out for a date with a really hot chic... yes that harmless blue file was turning me on...

The sun was setting over Bombay... it was a decently cool November evening...I was sitting alone in my cubicle....listening to U2...waiting for my coffee to boil...and my cig to light... and all the while my gaze fixed on blue file.. and the mystery inside it... I was dying to pick it up... but my coffee had to boil... and I had to be high on nicotine... it was like foreplay...

Sipping my terribly brewed black coffee and smoking my third cig... I finally did pick up the file....it was electric...and then my life changed...(again)....I slowly perused through the file... taking every word in slowly... sipping the words like an exotic French wine...ya it felt great.. till I came across the FIR... this dude had been accused of not one murder but 2 ... and they weren't like ya everyday murders... they were ghastly...they were grotesque...I wanted to throw up... and I almost did after reading it...the taste of French wine had suddenly changed to some shady country liquor... (I actually did throw up....) it was too much for me to fathom that someone could actually do this... some one who was only 15. I was sick as hell....I couldn't handle this... I couldn't do this case... what about my morals... I was in tears...this was beyond me... naaa... I kept telling my self... am handing this file back... am not doing this I am not defending this dude.... but...could I actually just let this go.. what if he had reasons... what if there was a genuine motive behind the murders... what if.... but still. this was too ghastly... what would my mum say... what would the world say... what would all my friends say... all those people who asked again and again... WOULD I DEFEND THE GUILTY????.. but maybe he hadn't done it... maybe he was innocent... maybe it was not him... what if he was framed... too many questions. and as usual no answers...

I was the last to leave office that night... it was dark and I was scared.... I really was... what if someone came out of the dark... and badgered me to death...it was a possibility... and this was freaking me out... this blue file had SCREWED ME OVER... even the train journey back.. was a nightmare... I kept looking over my shoulder... I was freaked out to say the least... the fear was real and cold....what if someone was waiting for me at home to kill me... ya I was paranoid.. at least I didn't have to worry about my kid being killed... I had none... (I swear... I still don't... for all those people who believe that I have a few coz of my promiscuous past)....

That was one of my worst nights I spent in my house... nothing helped... the cheap whisky....the nicotine... retrospectively dope could have helped... but I had none... I couldn't sleep...even Cricket on Espn was no help... arghhhh I was being eaten alive....that blue file... I had to get it off my head.....but.....

A few light years later I was back on a train... the 7:14 from Vashi to V.T.... luckily I was not alone... there were a million others on the train with me... and suddenly they all looked like killers.... I was surrounded by murderers... I had officially gone bonkers my then... I hadn’t shaved... (not like I shaved everyday)... my famous white shirt was as white as ever... (RIN KE SAFEDI)....
I needed a closure... I wanted the case off my back.... I wanted to get to office as soon as possible... but everything was running in slow motion...

My luck was running out... I couldn't get a cab from the train station to office... so I walked it.... then the freaking elevator wasn't working... just not my day I guess... even the coffee tasted like shit from down town Dongri... my interns faced the brunt of my frustration.. even Zubee (my secretary) got hell....

Finally madam walked into office at 11... lazy as hell and lost in her own lill world... I knew what she had on her mind... and it so wasn't that blue file...

I walked up to her even before she could light her navy cut... I was like the lamb before the wolf... I begged her to take case of my arse... but obviously she refused... in fact she had a surprise in store for me... a meeting with the dude in the afternoon... he was in custody and i had to go and meet him... I DIDN'T WANNA MEET HIM... MY HANDS WERE SHAKING... I was gonna meet the guy who had probably done all this shit... I threw a tantrum... I almost got fired... but...I was finally forced to continue...

Lunch was the same....I ate really slow... I ate a lot... I didn't wanna go... but... finally the time came... it was 3 pm... the November sun... was bright as ever... and my state of mind bleak as hell... the long walk to the observation home was a torture.... my white shirt had already lost its color... I was sweating as hell... I had my intern to give me company... but it didn't help... she was hot... but it all didn't matter.... nothing mattered....

3:37 pm... I was sitting in a room... just three chairs a table and a squeaky fan... the silence was deafening... I was dying to smoke... but I couldn't... (it wasn't allowed...) my intern sat fidgeting with the pen... I couldn't stop tapping the table.... and fuck that fan made too much noise.....

3:42 pm... the dude finally walked in... he was around 5 feet 6 inches tall. he wore an old white shirt and blue shorts (the uniform for juvenile offenders)... he was fair.... his hair combed back. I stood up and shook his hands.... and that's when I looked into his eyes... they were cold... there was something about them... it was scary.... he sat across of me... the table and the blue file separating us...

3:53 pm... we started talking.... the usual... hope the cops aren't beating ya... the food is good... and then I popped the question... DID YOU DO IT? there was silence again... it lasted for an eternity...now I really wanted to break that fan... and then he opened his mouth... looked me in the eyes... and said YES!!!!!!! he had done it... committed two cold blooded murders... YES HE HAD DONE IT... he was not innocent... he was guilty... but I couldn't decide that... the court had to do that... but in my mind he was guilty as hell.... I didn't know what to do.... I was only there coz he couldn't afford a lawyer and someone had to provide him with legal aid... his constitutional right... right to legal aid... I was there coz he couldn't get a lawyer..... I was torn.....

Months later... even today I can’t forget those eyes... eyes which showed no remorse for what he had done... maybe he didn't understand any of it... maybe he was too young... I kept telling my self Mehak this is your job... you have to do it... you have to defend him......

My morals had taken a beating... I didn't tell any of my friends... I couldn't... I was a bastard for doing this wasn't I??? maybe all of ya would say the same... but it was my job and someone had to do this..... and I yes I defended him in court...... and yes... months later I got him off... YES DAMN IT I GOT HIM OFF... the evidence was too weak... it was all circumstantial... after four months of trail.... the dude walked out scot free.... he was a murderer and he walked out scot free.. I proved it... I proved that he was innocent... how could I....was I guilty of murder. too... maybe ... I hate my self for what I did... some part of me does... but then that's life.... I sat across a murderer... his eyes... his cold remorseless eyes....and I won the case... but I lost my morals... my ethics... I lost my innocence... I became a bastard.... I became a murderer.....

An Epiphany and a Gold Fish...
27th June 2006

I wake up every morning hoping for an epiphany.. its the same mundane existence... the sweet black coffee.. the countless smokes... the same track playing over and over again... and for crying out loud the same face in the mirror... trust me its a wee scary... i manage to give my self a heart attack almost every day... the stubble... the puffed red eyes... and the hair.. holy wow.. the hair...( for the record i haven't got a hair cut in 6 months)...

What do i want??... its surely not this.. i want a freaking epiphany... anything.. a new idea.. a new thought... a new face.. even a gold fish might do... anything...hmmm what do i want? i don't know.. maybe wake up in Greenland...in an igloo freezing my balls off.. I spend my day searching for that epiphany and even that gold fish... i think i am gonna name it ozzie.. and it better be fat and lazy...maybe tomorrow i am gonna step out and search for an open field... i just wanna lie there till the sun goes down and then count the stars...maybe even come across a shooting star and wish upon it.. i might end up asking for that gold fish.. a helpless fat lazy gold fish...
I wanna change this... i am not gonna wake up tom morning... that might change this a wee bit.. i might not wake up at all.. ill just lie in bed till i come across that epiphany or even that gold fish...

For the Love of this Game…

3rd December 2005

Yes... I am a typical Indian man... they say that men think about sex... every 5 mins... but an Indian man thinks about cricket every 2 mins.. subconsciously.... you could be sitting in a meeting.... and images of Sachin Tendulkar dancing down the track to Shane Warne will make you smile... you might be with a boring date.. hating your self for being there in the first place... but images of Jonty Rhodes running out Inzamam-ul haq... would keep you sane... cricket... the beautiful game... the only reason I forgive the ‘poms’ for taking away the Kohinoor.... cricket is my life.. How many times have I and so many others like me faked an illness to stay home to watch a match...

Can never forget the time when I danced on the streets in Pune with my one leg in a cast coz India had beaten Pakistan in the world cup... or the time I ran naked out of my house... coz India had beaten Pakistan in a five match one day series.... or the time when a friends mother had thrown me out of the house for screaming like I was being slaughtered after Bhajji had taken a hat trick against Australia...or the times when I stood outside TV show rooms watching with a million other Indians... the game of cricket.... or even the time when I ran out of court ... mid way through a case proceedings last year and took my poor intern to watch the last day of the India Australia test match... cricket is yes my life.. and no matter how many times we might lose... I am still addicted to it...

The smiles the tears.... that's what cricket is all about... every victory is coupled with euphoria and every defeat with tears.... the time when India lost to Australia in the world cup final.. I thought my world had come to an end... all my heart breaks and break ups felt pale in comparison to the emotions that ran through my body and mind... I distinctly remember... sitting drunk on the roads in pune... crying inconsolably... the pain was similar to how i had felt when i watched vinod kambli walking back to the pavilion crying.. after India had been unceremoniously dumped out of the 1996 world cup....sigh.... yes that's pain.... the pain that cannot be compared....or described.

And now I am in country where the only time they play cricket is when they have nothing better to do... their life revolves around Celtics Beating the Rangers or vice versa (no offence to the die hard football fans).... but that's not me... I was born in India... with dreams of playing for the country... of hitting Wasim Akram and Imran khan for consecutive sixes...of taking a hat trick against Australia... (diff issue I am lawyer now)... it never mattered that I never even made it to the school team but in my back yard I had already captained India and won 3 world cups....yes that's passion....hmmm.. would give anything to just sit back on my bean bag and watch a good game of cricket...(Shabana I know what ya thinking...) but its in my blood....I have Sachin, Shane, Ricky, Wasim, Irfan and Shewag running through my veins.....

Yes I have gone mad... I have been deprived of this holy game... and have now been confined to following it on my lap top... the other day i even ran a cricket search on google... yes i am mad .. yes I am wasted... and hell ya I wasted ya time... but for cricket I am sure I can do that...
Anyways... the India and South Africa match is bout to start... and I have to get back to watching the live scores and now... even hear live commentary...yes the closest I might get to a real game for some time....may this game live long...

THE IRANIAN DELIGHT

10th March 2006

Its almost 4 am and i am hungry... well, i am always hungry and have the weirdest eating habits.... which include eating at all the weird hours... breakfast at 1 in the afternoon... lunch at 8 in the evening and am closing in on my dinner time.... but then again i don't wanna eat what's in my freezer... and i soooo don't wanna eat ' things' i can cook... instead i wanna eat at an 'Irani' restaurant... yeaa' the good ol' 'Irani' cafes/restaurants sprinkled all over Bombay and Pune... i wanna eat a spicy 'biryani' and drink some 'Irani' tea...

'Irani' restaurants date back to the time when the British still ruled and screwed the country... where the whites( Shane hope ya reading this) called us 'blackies'... and the locals were a superstitious lot...During those early days.. the locals..( primarily the Hindu Brahmin's and the Gujarati's) considered it inauspicious to have/ or run an eatery at/from the corner of any street.... taking advantage of these empty corners.. the 'Iranians set up their cafes at the most prominent corners in Bombay and Pune....(Goodluck in Pune.... Mondegar in Bombay.. being two such examples)

My first experience of an 'Irani' restaurant dates back to the summer of 1999... i had just moved to Law School in Pune... and would invariably be hungry at or around 3 am.... and no matter what (non existent) stocks i had in my room.. i never wanted to touch them... i always wanted to step out and explore... it was on one of those nocturnal rendezvous that i discovered an 'Iranian restaurant... 'Lucky'... it was nothing more than a small long hall.. lit by dim white neon's...old creaky wooden chairs.... marble and plastic tables... and a huge life size picture of Dev Anand( famous Indian Movie Star) ( Dev Anand spent 4 years in Pune .. during his days at F.T.I.I. and legend has it, that he ate dinner there very night) behind the counter. I distinctly remember the rain that night... it was pouring. I was drenched, broke (nothing new) and hungry.... and to give me company were atleast 100 others...all strangers but brought together by an insatiable hunger for the Iranian delicacies and the never ending cash crunch...( everyone was always broke in law school and Pune.... the month always started on the 3rd and invariably ended on the 5th.. after which it was life on a shoe string budget... and had it not been for these 'Iranian cafes.. Pune might have resembled Somalia and i probably would have been thin...).. and yes the food was worht killing for....the ' 'biryani's'... the 'bheja frys'... the mutton curries... and the ' chappatis'(Indian bread)...spicy...and divine...

My tryst with these 'Irani' Cafe's didn't end that night.... but it was instead, the beginning of a beautiful relationship....my hunger .. my need... my greed.. made me discover most if not all the 'Iranian cafes/restaurants in Pune...i moved from street to street looking for them... i was like a love struck fool....i moved from 'Lucky'.. and discovered ' GoodLuck'...'Olympia' and Kayani ....satisfied but always hungry for more..

I would start most days sitting on an old creaky wooden chair at Goodluck sipping on a cup of strong black ' 'Irani' tea'...( rumor had it that 'Irani' tea was made of bones.... but i didn't care...) and a freshly baked bun soaked in butter called 'bun maska' or a Shrews berry biscuit( 490 calories in each biscuit) my paunch is a result of those biscuits.. you could never stop at one ...... dinner would be at Lucky's... ' 'biryani'', 'chappati' and bread pudding..... the nostalgia right now... is making me go crazy... please just pray that none of my flatmates are awake and walking around... coz if they are i am sure to eat them.. everything around me looks like a plate of 'biryani'....anyways....

I moved to Bombay a couple of years back.( home of the ' 'Irani' restaurants).. and luckily( no pun intended) my office was in South Bombay (Fort) which had more 'Iraniian cafes than ya can imagine...there was one in almost every lane.... but there are 5 that stand out in my memory...Leopold's... Mondegar... Olympiad.....Britannia and Military..

The first two being the upmarket 'Irani' cafes of the 21st century, playing ballads form the 80's and serving chilled beer and the beef steaks to kill for... Olympiad and Britannia were Shabana's and my favorite dinner hangout.... after our grueling day at the office.. where i was subjected to torture.. courtesy my boss( most might remember her from my previous mails).. we would invariably unwind eating the usual.. ''biryani''... 'bheja fry'.. and bread pudding( she hated the pudding though... but i strongly recommend it to all), and then there was Military... my personal favorite... it was more of an 'Iranian restaurant for the lawyers and the stock brokers.... strategically located on 'Dalal' street, between the Bombay High Court and the Stock Exchange... and was always packed with people in black robes(lawyers) and pot bellied brokers guzzling down beer....those were the good old days...
.
Times have changed now... slowly but steadily the numbers of these 'Iranian cafes have dwindled... the so called pseudo quasi westernized young of the nation ( Atif you better be reading this).. have flocked to the Barista's and the Coffee Days and have forgotten all 'bout the good ol' 'Iranian joints... the booming (its a myth though..) economy has taken away the people from these eateries....the result being many of them shutting down.. or being sold out to the Barista's.....Globalization is (if not already) killing these eateries....I remember one such...located at the corner of M.G road Pune... shut down...and was bought over by a Barista... it was a painful moment... one less place to enjoy the goodies.....

I can still picture my self sitting at Lucky's with Anant Manan and Ayushi... sipping a cup of tea.. watching the rain and enjoying our 'biryani's... but not sure if i or the future generations of our nation will ever be able to enjoy this simple pleasure of life....again... i hope its not too late .. i hope they never shut down... and i hope after reading this.. all of ya out there.. will please eat at an 'Iranian cafe on your next visit to Bombay or Pune.... and yes... if any of ya'll are coming over to Scotland please do not forget to get me some biryani....

Reality…
16th April 2006

Its all a delusion.. this is reality and i still believe its not true... something is missing.. is it the sanity of my existence.. or maybe the lack of it... like always i don't have the answers for any of the questions....my worlds passing me by and the questions keep increasing leaving behind an impending liability of unanswered questions... is this what they call reality... maybe this is a dream.. maybe this is an illusion... maybe.. this is another question...

A Thought…
22nd June 2006
There I was lost in the absurdity of this vast less expanse they call this universe…
Sipping on some whiskey on a starry night
Over looking the mountains…
Smoking some weed
When this ... thought walked up to me….or was it more than just a thought…
It was just me and my thoughts... and my pen and maybe even my paper
I don't know what I was writing
It was absurd as usual
Just my thoughts
On a blank sheet
In blue ink
Strange how one's thoughts can turn to blue
On a piece of blank paper
The night air…was still crisp
Well that's how thoughts are
They pass
But the ink preserves them forever
Don't you think?
There was a slight nip in the air...
The air was fresh
I could smell the mountains
I shivered
But the whiskey kept me warm
I could see the faint outline of the snow on the peaks
It was dark...
But the sky had a strange blue tinge to it
Maybe I was just high
Or maybe it was my thoughts... reflecting it's blue shade to my surroundings
I would call it my surreal life of wasted existence
But then there she was… my thoughts
Short
But beautiful
Her long flowing hair...
The wind played its lill games with
Her eyes...
They glowed...
No fuck I was just high
Or maybe not
It was a state of mind...
Before I knew it
She was in my space...
My own lill space...
My lill world was being violated by her...
Did I want her there?
Maybe not
But she was beautiful
I had forgotten what beauty was all about...
And she was just that
Before I knew it
She was sitting right next to me
No words were exchanged
Just her thoughts and me...
In the same lill space that I thought only belonged to me
My blue ink...
The blank sheets of paper...
I didn't want to write any more.. I never really did
I wanted to look at her...
Or maybe not...
And then I did
And her eyes met mine...
It was strange... just like everything else in my life
Two strangers in a strange land
I know...
...... I wanted to hold her hand
It's something about the human touch...
It has a kind cannibalistic edge to it
You can't do with or without it
A touch can kill you...
In more ways than you can imagine...
And I can write a whole book on it...
But I won't...
Coz at the end of it... ill be driving my self nuts reading it over and over again...
And I sure as hell don't want that...
But then again...
My space... my lill world...
My bubble...
Had someone else in it...
Who was she?
Like I cared...
Her hair kept brushing against my face...
It was the wind...
Damn the wind... playing its sadistic games with me...
The world plays its games...with me... just when I don't want it to...
I downed my whiskey
Lit another cig...
The arcid taste of cheap nicotine... was a relief only a starved soul would know...
And I was starved...
But for what...
Another impending question
Right... so... I was lost wasn't I?
Was she too
But then I have been lost forever... in my own world... its always been about me... me... and more me... and even this is about me...
And I can't help it...
I need to focus... I am losing her in my head
And I sure as hell don't want that
My thoughts keep drifting to the last time I made love
The candles the music
The passion
It's all in the head
But... it's lost...
I can't place a finger on it...
I can't even feel it anymore...
And fuck as hell... I am high...
I offered her some whiskey
She seemed cold...
Though I would preferred to have offered her my arms... my hands...
Before I knew it...
The two of us were sharing the spirit from the same glass...
Or was it more that we were sharing...
I couldn't tell
Maybe I didn't want to tell
I could taste her off the glass.
The sweet smell of her lips
I could taste them in my head...
The whiskey seemed... diff... And not like I had to write that...
It just had to...
Don't you think...?
It always does... especially when you can taste a woman's lips on it
Aright... so maybe I wanted to make love to her
All in my head though
Time to light another smoke...
The stars... they were still all there...
They had no where to go...
Or did they...
The sun was a few hours away...
Oo... I am lost...
Lost in my thoughts...

Letting Go…

24th June 2006

The moment of truth... as I sit here... the warm evening breeze... the calm sea... or so it pretends to be... dark clouds at the edge of the horizon... this is gonna be a long night... or maybe somewhere along the way.. The alcohol will get to me... and i am not sure what would be better...
This stone bench its cold ...and an hour into this evening my butts sore already but do I really care... its my butt for crying out loud...that's its job... the suns going down over the Arabian sea... Bombay is coming to life... the sea is strewn with lill shimmering lights... the boats... the islands in the distance.. The wee light house ...its there... alone it stands in the midst of all the chaos... orange clouds streak the greying sky... the birds are on their way home( and i am not even sure if Bombay has any birds left.. maybe the birds in my wee brain are going home). Really what am I doing here? Two packs of smokes and enough money in my pocket to get me hammered... guess should be enough to get me through this ordeal. Why am I doing this to my self... its torture but of a different kind... its just me my smokes.. my cheap alcohol and loads of memories to drown. Maybe that's what I am doing here... trying to drown not my sorrows but my memories...

Every min of my life passes me by... it seems like I am dying... the alcohol helps... and the cig eases the pain... letting go... is the toughest bit of it all... i sit here... alone... lost... a soul without a purpose.. my loneliness my solace my only peace.. images flash by bringing with it a pain unimaginable.. thoughts of how i could change it all.. every bit of it.. all in an instant.. i am scared to open my eyes.. coz then reality will seep in... and i know i lost it all... and i could give up everything(not like i have anything left to give) to change it all... but i cant...

Its dark...lill pearls hover in the dark distant sea... fresh faces give me company on the near by tables... the big noisy pedestal fan brings relief from the evening heat.. the cold beer makes me wanna throw it all back.. but that's at a risk of letting go of this moment... this is my moment o peace and i am not gonna let a bottle of beer steal my thunder.( and i hate beer)
The skies light up.... i can hear the thunder in the distance.. monsoons are just a step away.. i can smell the rain.. but i cant see or feel it.. soon.. this lill island will be submerged.. chaos shall loom large... dirt and filth shall reign supreme.. the poor and the homeless shall suffer.. the rich shall sit in their patios and enjoy the breeze... lill naked kids will dance in the rain.. pandemonium shall break loose... Bombay will be born again.. but what about me...will i be born ....again.??..4 hours into this night i am still not sure.. am already 6 beers down ( i feel sick) and am on my last cig from the first pack... and i haven't gone too far... this whole task seems fruitless and mundane... but i have another 6 hours to sunrise.. so there is hope....
Maybe i should switch to coffee.. strong and black and sweet... maybe i will.. too much beer never really helped anyone.. and i wished they served whiskey.. or maybe even a cranberry breezer..but breezers are like poison to me.. they bring back the pain i am trying to bury here..
The first drops of rain...cold like ice.. pure like a baby's smile.. i don't want shelter.. i want the rain to wash away all those memories.. good and bad... all of them.. i don't want to live with them anymore...as i sit there letting the rain drops do their lill dance all over me.. it all comes back to me.. every bit of it... like a freight train it hits me bang across my chest.. leaves me gasping for air... i wanted to die... but i didn't...i just sat there.. smoking my cig in the rain.. sipping on a mixture of ice cold rain and stale beer...

I was cold, wet and shivering...... the rain fell relentless, the waiters refused to serve me any more alcohol.. not coz i was hammered.. but just coz no one wanted to step out in the rain.. they were mad... who would wanna stay away from the rain..( aright maybe i was a wee loony.. but who cared a fuck) Sitting so far up.. i could feel i could touch the sky.... the sea looked angry and dawn was only a few minutes away.

Had i healed? did i manage to bury the ghosts from the past.. i didn't know... the skies were clearing and so was my mind...there was light in the sky but darkness still loomed large within....and i was on my last cig... i had lost count of the beers i had downed.. and rightly so i felt sick.. but i was a wee relived.. i had managed to spend a night... where it all started... there were tears...i was slowly letting go.. letting go of....the past... or maybe not...