Everything random…
The black gold sits at my desk. Liquid and bitter in its conception, the whole purpose to appease my disheveled soul. Comprehension of the task at hand rather skewed, chaos as usual ensues around, books and files don my surroundings. The pending work file seems an endless task
My mind is on a trip a trip down memory lane, drowning in emotions strong and precious, moments of joy and a billion good byes, faces I will never see again, , mails I shall never receive again, places I will never visit again, they all flood my thoughts, friends lost and found, images captured forever.
Everything else takes a back seat, the work the files the chaos, its me and my mind, reading mails sent over the years, pictures in my mind and those on my hard drive. My fish give me company, chasing each other in their wee watery prison donning my desk. The wee shell and brilliant shades of gold and blue…
Friday, August 31, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
A New beginning to an erstwhile end...
Woke up this morning…. It was yet another Monday morning…Yeah!! The most dreadful part of the week, however I felt different, I for a change was not a victim of the usual ‘Monday Morning Blues’…the battle within had eased.. a sense of utopian satisfaction engulfed my soul…. The clouds … the quasi-cool breeze seemed to have washed away all the existential angst.
For once the early morning rush hour traffic didn’t seem to bother me… I even wore a crisp white shirt and my cleanest pair of Levis’ (I had hoped, I wouldn’t have to go to court )
The day rolled by, I was asked to attend a matter at the Supreme Court, so had to get into my court apparel ( a freaking white starched shirt, black trousers, black jacket and a black gown and all of it in the freaking humidity)… minutes passed me by…a drop in an ocean of black.. I watched and lived it all…
Back in office I cleaned my desk, the worn torn Iraqi landscape for once resembled uptown Manhattan. Shocked faces around caught my eye…I was trying hard to be positive…a sole survivor in a genocidal attack was a tough ask… Colleagues around me fell like nine pins… one by one…slow yet steady…every meeting with the boss, the admin head and the quasi boss for them was like surviving a Nazi gas chamber … distraught faces.. frustration writ large on their faces… I admist all that chaos held my head high.. I was walking ‘the’ line.. I was determined not to give in … my mind thought of ways of avoiding another battle with the bitch of an admin head..( lord do we hate her)…
The sun set over Delhi, the birds flew back to their wee nests… however we were still stuck at work.. I sat at my desk sipping on some cold and bitter coffee and staring into space. The day’s newspapers waited patiently …. Bits of paper with nothing but gore blood and heart wrenching tales awaited me… pictures of bodies from the recent terrorist attack… the story of the woman who died of starvation in Delhi… and the governments new devices to screw the middle class over… they were all there… black and red ink on white… stories… all for me to take in and document…
Darkness brought with it an empty feeling, one by one the survivors from the gas chambers streamed out of work… glad to live and survive another day… I however continued to sit at my desk.. taking it all in… I could have thrown another tantrum, there were a million reasons to the do the same, but I had resigned to my fate.. I was content to be swimming in shyte… I was hungry.. I was broke… but it didn’t matter.. coz for once I wasn’t the man I used to be. Maybe I had lost.. maybe I wont fight another battle.. maybe I wont break pens and throw files.. or maybe even bang desks and threaten to kill the admin bitch for not clearing my cheques, maybe just maybe I wont even stand up against the tyranny or throw a fit against a new law at work…
The drive back home was long… unwinding roads.. and chaotic traffic… I was kept company by some random doctor over the radio, who couldn’t stop ranting about anxiety disorders.. strangely I could relate to it..( I was losing it) I showed at least 7 out of the 10 symptoms the Doctor had ranted about…
In retrospect however… I wonder if this newfound attitude was any good….the Indian cricket team yet again grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory… and once again I felt like shyte… complete shyte.. I regretted coming home to watch a bunch of 11 wankers get their sorry arses kicked.. wasn’t the shameful exit from the World Cup enough for a lifetime.. a country of over 1 billion people and we cant find 11 decent wankers to win a game of cricket…
So here I am… sitting in my living room.. sprawled like a dead rat… still dressed in the once white shirt now crumpled and dirty and my ill fitting black trousers… nothing has changed… I feel exactly the same.. except more resigned to this fate.. this life.. this slavery…
Woke up this morning…. It was yet another Monday morning…Yeah!! The most dreadful part of the week, however I felt different, I for a change was not a victim of the usual ‘Monday Morning Blues’…the battle within had eased.. a sense of utopian satisfaction engulfed my soul…. The clouds … the quasi-cool breeze seemed to have washed away all the existential angst.
For once the early morning rush hour traffic didn’t seem to bother me… I even wore a crisp white shirt and my cleanest pair of Levis’ (I had hoped, I wouldn’t have to go to court )
The day rolled by, I was asked to attend a matter at the Supreme Court, so had to get into my court apparel ( a freaking white starched shirt, black trousers, black jacket and a black gown and all of it in the freaking humidity)… minutes passed me by…a drop in an ocean of black.. I watched and lived it all…
Back in office I cleaned my desk, the worn torn Iraqi landscape for once resembled uptown Manhattan. Shocked faces around caught my eye…I was trying hard to be positive…a sole survivor in a genocidal attack was a tough ask… Colleagues around me fell like nine pins… one by one…slow yet steady…every meeting with the boss, the admin head and the quasi boss for them was like surviving a Nazi gas chamber … distraught faces.. frustration writ large on their faces… I admist all that chaos held my head high.. I was walking ‘the’ line.. I was determined not to give in … my mind thought of ways of avoiding another battle with the bitch of an admin head..( lord do we hate her)…
The sun set over Delhi, the birds flew back to their wee nests… however we were still stuck at work.. I sat at my desk sipping on some cold and bitter coffee and staring into space. The day’s newspapers waited patiently …. Bits of paper with nothing but gore blood and heart wrenching tales awaited me… pictures of bodies from the recent terrorist attack… the story of the woman who died of starvation in Delhi… and the governments new devices to screw the middle class over… they were all there… black and red ink on white… stories… all for me to take in and document…
Darkness brought with it an empty feeling, one by one the survivors from the gas chambers streamed out of work… glad to live and survive another day… I however continued to sit at my desk.. taking it all in… I could have thrown another tantrum, there were a million reasons to the do the same, but I had resigned to my fate.. I was content to be swimming in shyte… I was hungry.. I was broke… but it didn’t matter.. coz for once I wasn’t the man I used to be. Maybe I had lost.. maybe I wont fight another battle.. maybe I wont break pens and throw files.. or maybe even bang desks and threaten to kill the admin bitch for not clearing my cheques, maybe just maybe I wont even stand up against the tyranny or throw a fit against a new law at work…
The drive back home was long… unwinding roads.. and chaotic traffic… I was kept company by some random doctor over the radio, who couldn’t stop ranting about anxiety disorders.. strangely I could relate to it..( I was losing it) I showed at least 7 out of the 10 symptoms the Doctor had ranted about…
In retrospect however… I wonder if this newfound attitude was any good….the Indian cricket team yet again grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory… and once again I felt like shyte… complete shyte.. I regretted coming home to watch a bunch of 11 wankers get their sorry arses kicked.. wasn’t the shameful exit from the World Cup enough for a lifetime.. a country of over 1 billion people and we cant find 11 decent wankers to win a game of cricket…
So here I am… sitting in my living room.. sprawled like a dead rat… still dressed in the once white shirt now crumpled and dirty and my ill fitting black trousers… nothing has changed… I feel exactly the same.. except more resigned to this fate.. this life.. this slavery…
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Freedom
Independence day… oh well for most of us its nothing but a break from our mundane lives, a public holiday, a day to unwind, a day when you don’t have to fight the traffic or face the shyte of life, but lets just stop here for a minute. Its independence day a day we ought to sit back and reflect on the struggles and the blood lost, a day when we celebrate the victory of human spirit a day when we ought to realize that a lot has been achieved or maybe not? None of us will ever fully know the extent of the things there are to know and love about this great country.
But because our star of freedom has shone - more or less intact, at least in political terms - for 60 years, - today is the day to stop, pause and consider that millions of us are still not free. We are moved around by dams, roads and mines. Our villages are burned in hatred-filled riots. Our husbands, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, daughters, mothers still die of diseases all too easily preventable, we still do not know what it is to read and write, we do not know whether the peace of our forest or field or town will remain undisturbed from one year to the next. We still sell our bodies to buy our bread and we still bleed at the hands of our fellow countrymen. We still live in shacks by the roadside. We are hundreds of years away from 15th August, 1947. And 60 years ahead of it.
Independence day… oh well for most of us its nothing but a break from our mundane lives, a public holiday, a day to unwind, a day when you don’t have to fight the traffic or face the shyte of life, but lets just stop here for a minute. Its independence day a day we ought to sit back and reflect on the struggles and the blood lost, a day when we celebrate the victory of human spirit a day when we ought to realize that a lot has been achieved or maybe not? None of us will ever fully know the extent of the things there are to know and love about this great country.
But because our star of freedom has shone - more or less intact, at least in political terms - for 60 years, - today is the day to stop, pause and consider that millions of us are still not free. We are moved around by dams, roads and mines. Our villages are burned in hatred-filled riots. Our husbands, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, daughters, mothers still die of diseases all too easily preventable, we still do not know what it is to read and write, we do not know whether the peace of our forest or field or town will remain undisturbed from one year to the next. We still sell our bodies to buy our bread and we still bleed at the hands of our fellow countrymen. We still live in shacks by the roadside. We are hundreds of years away from 15th August, 1947. And 60 years ahead of it.
Orange skies
Days roll on… spells of rain wash away the heat… shades of amber at dusk.
Surreal in its conception and construction…. I watch the rays of sun paint the cloud streaked skies every evening.. the traffic lights and the chaos all around takes a back seat as I watch those colors unveil magic every evening. Peaceful and beautiful they light my life… memories from the past flood my thoughts.. a child chasing down the many dragon flies…. Wee shorts and old shoes the smell of the fresh grass and those orange skies… not a worry in the world… just the boy and his kingdom painted orange every monsoon. I am that child again.. every evening I relive the past.
Days roll on… spells of rain wash away the heat… shades of amber at dusk.
Surreal in its conception and construction…. I watch the rays of sun paint the cloud streaked skies every evening.. the traffic lights and the chaos all around takes a back seat as I watch those colors unveil magic every evening. Peaceful and beautiful they light my life… memories from the past flood my thoughts.. a child chasing down the many dragon flies…. Wee shorts and old shoes the smell of the fresh grass and those orange skies… not a worry in the world… just the boy and his kingdom painted orange every monsoon. I am that child again.. every evening I relive the past.
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