LOST IN RAIN

Steps behind steps, he walked away, aghast,
Maimed, through the mirror, into past.
Rough smoothed into crass effervescence..
Meanders he in rain perturbed silence.

Will he be heard?

Drenched in converging longings,
Whistled he, mellow singings.
Should he take a step back?
To embrace it all back?

Will he be heard?

Neglected. Lost. Dreamy.
Vapoury thoughts, Hazy environ.
Warm tears of rain,
As steps trail the steps again.

Will he be heard?

When he said nothing at all...

He lay listless। Rather against his wishes! The buzz in his hand hinged with impatience.

“Ah! Well a-day! What evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung”

Indeed the cross of albatross was wrung around his hand, with a prickly needle. He looked up in hope of breaking out of this nightmare. Alas! All he could see, drop-by-drop reminder of his non-existence. A bottle of glucose took ages to pump in her soul, only to be replaced by another. It was twilight; it had rained the day before. The cool breeze brought in the smell of fresh guavas and the memories dropped him into a lumber. Everything was perfect, except him.

The plethora of wishful thinking filled him. The hum in his head got louder. He was still expressionless. The effort worthy of applause, for any wrinkles would invite “Don’t TAX yourself”. The lazy and sleepy days ticked with clock and he no longer needed drops of life. How happy he was! He let aloud a grunt. He made for two ringing circles around the bed sprightly. That was all he could do. PITY! That much for 5 days of glucose, he had to recline to bed. Things came crashing again.

Incidentally, his memory cells realized he could only vaguely recall the musings of the last day। Diagnosis of pre-coma had called for relatives-near and far। The number of people sitting by him and the hands mopping his head- he failed to recount. He had hoped the glucose would run the magic wand in his life. It did, albeit his wishes were enormous for the recovery. He chewed his own lips and let out a silent grunt. The silence of the glum day, the silence of thoughts- it was deafening.


Hours passed, Days passed. He was permitted to sit for few minutes. He was allowed idiocy of idiot box. All he thought was, the grass is getting greener this side! The Euro-Cup would keep him busy between the rounds of his sleep. If he managed few more hours, Wimbledon was waiting for him. He watched them with the intensity he knew, even if he knew the results (He wasn’t allowed the late night Euro-Cup matches, he settled for the recorded version of it in the morn).

Slowly, he was getting grasp of things back again. No longer was the puppet held by strings from all the sides. Internet, Restricted home food and bouts of listening. His place was swarming with people, and he caught up with lost relations and interesting gossips. The only thing he didn’t realize then- Time had turned foes with him and was flying away against his wishes. He counted the number of days and rather dutifully he bade a good bye and started off his vigil elsewhere.

Wonderful isnt it? How a com(m)a changes the sentences of life!

Questions Galore!

Since long!! Let’s recollect the reactions of transpired moments.

The last blog entry saw me rushing head long into the end semester exams. Yeah more importantly the “SE”mester was drawing to a close after a series of successful( not so eventually) presentations. Precariously enough, I dug out through another subject. Ahh, the holidays! They should rather be re- named as holydays, for their amazing way of cleansing minds (Good food had always been the stimulant. The whetstone for all the things big and large :P) and spirits (sleep).

Bus to Mumbai was scheduled at 8, so I did pack my bags in a jiffy. Yeah, I caught up on the last day of football with seniors. The sleep conjured images all bright and plaintively astonishing. Did I mention earlier, I was speeding to Bombay to meet my married cousin? The whole of mom’s place seemed to be flooding the flat and the next and the next. 25 odd! Kids--- kindergarten, “chaar foot do inch” etc etc had given enough reasons the other building members to cast a brow. Interestingly enough, the atmosphere was unwilling to die down, even though it was five days past to D-day.

Bhabhi got the first taste of oriya life. It won’t be a understatement if I say, she was dumbfounded not just by the eating habits but the quantity too. She tried but failed to assimilate how the pantha bhaath(rice water. Sorry I don’t know how best to elaborate that), fishes, dried pickles could melt away all the tiredness of the day (Marketing that is. Would grind through it in due course of time)? I had the luxuries if a KFC and McDonald nearby. No wonder, it was the most inexplicable scene before a dietician, who believes rice eating is either for feeble and chaps with lot of physical labor. No wonder the simplest of things are harder to digest for the knowledgeable. But she wouldn’t fret, and each and everyone sans the kids and me (I never admitted that I was hooked to cool drinks), were meted a long list of dietary habits for free. Doctors aren’t so bad after all!

Shopping, Marketing I thought was occasion specific. The myth was shattered to shreds. The gleam in the eyes was a sight in itself. I was invariably dragged to market as the coolie man. I didn’t flinch a bit for it provided me ample opportunities to corner each aunt and uncle in turn. This meant a lot of baggage both physically (as usual I put on weight) and literally (My half full onward bag was converted to a nospaceforair thing). Sorry for diverting, I should be concentrating on the surrounding not me. My point was, purchasing or no purchasing, the sight of market stimulated “ladies” to no end. The prospect of bargaining seemed to be the only game they played from grade two.

Twas part one of marketing. Now comes the part two. It strictly consists of jewels. Do people not get surprised if you fetch onion when you were asked to purchase “Aloo”? Then how would the same set of persons—“PERSONS OF WISDOM” enter a pearl shop, when they debated and decided to have GOLD? ( If you get through the logic, please ping me. Even otherwise, life’s getting boring)

The train journey was taken up in getting the limelight for being the next SCAPEGOAT. Yes, I am second in line. Select a gujju girl, Punjabi girl blah blah blah(The pronounced effect of a Punjabi marriage). The words of wisdom came from various mouths ranging from 6 years to 80 years. DAMN! In between all the pestering and love, I was to stop the kid-errands! Think of fetching a 6 year old three bogeys down, playing EA sports on someone’s cell! Did I forget to mention the plate of shrimps (specially packed for me :D) between the rounds of hugs?

Thus, engaged I did fulfill my eventful journey. Biked my way from the station into the newly A/C’ed room. Statement1: Are you taking medicines on time? Statement2: Today chicken! This marked the beginning of food festival for me. Chicken, Mutton,Lobster,Prawns,Crabs, Chowmein and Eggs! Wait I forgot to add PaniPuri and the sweet dose of steam cakes. The order may not be necessarily the same. Found time to catch up on IPL, friends-- lost in time, lost in space. Yeah, like all good things it came to an end!

This post reminds me of the bountiful home and the train journey!

Tag'd

Days of hard work and it gets nullified by a single non- validation! Yeah, I have no other thing going in my mind, so giving this tag a go. How grateful shall I remain to Buddha to tag me, only time shall test!

Last Movie Seen in Theatre

Hmmm… hmmmm.. Wait I think I have turned a full cycle. No “theatre movie” :O this sem. “Om Shanti Om” was my last with a multiplex.
Good? Bad? Passable?
Remember Deepika?

Book Being Read

If(e-books satisfy the criteria)

{

“Chariots of the Gods”- Erich Von Danniken. God or astronauts? Pictures of earth’s panorama even when fire was unknown to human kind!

}

Else

Academic books, notably on filters (never grasped what they filter in and what they filter out).

Favourite Board Game

Was interesting to note, in other tags, how games slipped past with years. Rules still change in my dictionary almost everyday as we(Me, Mom and brother) argue over the board(Caroms, Monopoly or Ludo). The games which captivated me as a kid- Lexicon and Instant cricket.

Favourite Magazine

Duhh.. Havent been on any from ages. Science Reporter and Wisdom with all the promises to the exalted sphere of intelligentsia, were previewed with vigor. Alas! It was once upon a time!

Favourite Smells

Wet earth. ( Much had been artistically said about them)

Smell of a perfectly laid football pitch.

Oddly enough, diesel smells good.

And yes, the ‘smell’ of exotic mom’s cuisines.

Favourite Sounds

Droplets of rain from the asbestos to the grills to the water puddle. Period.

The rhythm of a march past( read the scouts escapades).

The group of storks fluttering their wings in the pond while you nestle in some tree branch.

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?

Check my cell to be informed of the TIME!

Worst feeling in the world

Going through one now. When all your hard works are not even looked upon. Coupling it up with the tag “COPIED”.

Sitting in the audience and seeing your team lose.

Favourite Fast Food Place

Anything, anywhere.

Aap main aur DEW ki bottle?

Future Child’s Name

Aahh.. Mom has already reserved the rights! SORRY ya.

Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…” go to all sorts of places to see MANCHESTER UNITED play.

Do you drive fast? Quite a lot by mom’s standards. Otherwise, it mainly depends on MOOD!

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No. Of course not.

Storms - Cool or Scary? COOL.

Do you eat the stems on broccoli? “Zara ORIYA mein samjhayiyega”. I eat on Albert R. Broccoli 007 movies.

If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice? Black. My hairs are getting white!

All towns/cities you have lived in Balasore, Bhadrak, Berhampur, Bhubaneswar, Kolkata, Hyderabad, Mumbai, Gandhinagar.

Favourite sports to watch Football. Nothing compares to the nascent magic of football in move.

Cricket(read India),Hockey ( read brother), Badminton (read Dad)…hmmmm WWE as a child. :P.

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you “He has words of WISDOM gathered over experience. Don’t overlook them”

What’s under your bed?

A suitcase locked with dirty secrets and dark fantasies. Pair of sports shoes. Hmmm and a lots of dust.

Would you like to be born as yourself again? Yes. But as a younger sibling.

Morning person or night owl?

Someone said: - “Dawn is the time when men of reason take to bed”.

Over easy or sunny side up?

Feed back me on that.…

Favourite Place to Relax

Present State: Galla.

Wishful State: Village. With the echoing silence of time.

Favourite Pie

Chocolate Pie. Never tried anything else.

Favourite Ice Cream

Butter Scotch, Anything with Chocolate.

Ahhh.. The easiest part. Hmmmm

I pass the baton to Tuli, Evil(ution), Malvika.

Life After Coffee

He is restless. He is flummoxed by the hopelessness of it all. He abhors it. Period.

It all started with a foolish promise- Be Regular! So he decides to give it a go. Even the sight of his colleagues’ recluse to the old comforts, after a week, did not deter him. Interestingly, this did not go un-noticed. Proof- The stack of PRS (Sophisticated instruments for marking attendance) lying on his table. See, nothing was left to fate! The first unconscious attempt (unwell) to miss a class resulted in missing a POP quiz. He took it in his positive stride and waged on.

Life seemed not so difficult. The football days, the chocolate sundaes blended itself well with the presented time. He could manage to enjoy his college fest! Good times? Time changed gears. Screws were tightened. The work re-enforced itself and had to be re-iterated (Damn! No other. Sentence could even come close to explain the work process or the flow model). The load got better of him, yet he didn’t betray the conscious effort of being regular. He tried. He slogged.

(More deliberations on the above pic can be found here)

Twelve days to the final exams. He realizes other courses have stiffened the bottle neck too. He frowned at the futility of it all. The aimless, he of last semester- to the present him, the transformation seems to be wasted. At least he is made to believe that.

Walking is he, with the constant tag at his neck- “Work Pending”. Even football lost its taste. He cribs. He sulks but he is working. The struggle no more is the promise to the exalted regularity. Rather to move down the alley in twelve days. Sight of exams were never more welcome than today. He surmises and has a quiet laugh at past. He did his shoe lace right and made sure to polish them, when he was a kid! Today he finds pushed about by time. Not passing it, rather allowing times to by-pass him.

He looks at the week next. Presentations and exams are lined up from Monday to Friday. He mops his hair, allows a wicked cruel smile. He reminds himself to book a ticket home sooner. He is happy!

Moral of the Story: Don’t let yourself bound by obligations! Else the memento mori will have its say!

When he was ALONE.....

He stood gaping at his shadow,
In weird thoughts and distant memories,
By cold snaps piercing the quietness,
Besides himself, he wailed her name,
Brusquely it came and stumbled he, in tame.

When tormenting thoughts encircled,
Swayed he in dreams, disturbed.
All he conjured,
The dimpled beam on the face,
And the little curl besides the ear।

The casting lamp forlorn,
He walked loud with anklets worn.
Reaching her breath on his skin,
And her impelling hair on his fingers, akin.
Peered he with eyes wide shut.

He traced her smile from faking memory,
Feeling through the soft length of her body.
He waits the evening of split wine.
Imprinting illusions of reality.
The lovers dream they had seen!

The Train She Never Took

It all started with the innocuous of scraps. Hail Orkut! Your stumbling upon anyone from remote past is nothing short of miraculous. Series of scraps, fervent replies, the feeling of childhood rejuvenating – The circle spun on. Unlike most things, the fervour didn’t die. The little complaints, held for long needed answers. All in all the cement, the mortar for the next wall was totally bridged. Scraps to instant messages the transition was virtually unnoticed.


As it seemed, there could be no end to talks, came the lull. The period of no scraps, no gtalk pings! Exams! Like all bad things, it had a good side. It wouldn’t be insanely Herculean to gather a force to loathe exams. Just the degree varied with persons as did the language. The end of exams marked the lengthier nights to be filled with so called acts. Coincidentally, both he and she began to talk beyond the past into present. Life of speculations, life of relationships!

The online chatting really does pioneer in getting hideous scandals revealed. For reasons difficult to fathom, it’s always easier grieving over chat or a phone than in face. The case in point was no different. It looks even more ridiculously childish; when rather than drawing nodding sympathy he gets mocking lols (grins). Soon enough the minutes of past and present gets done with. Yet, the diminished eagerness lingered. Gtalk seemed passé! Messages and calls! So much so that the usual decency of leaving out of rooms in search of alone space was lost on the frequency of calls. The attractions seemed aplenty, but reality lay somewhere far off.

Things lead to one another and the whole world conspired with the fate। They were to meet! How absurd did it sound? For each knew the other with flummoxing familiarity credited to close friends. They were to see the other growing out of digital snaps for the first time. It was she who rang up, and fixed the place. He was quite unsure of the place, and loitered around to find the smiling face. The so called mandatory hand-shakes backwashed into a period of nerve wrecking silence! No words, even to the point of stammering!Time eased them through the initial hiccups. Maybe to reduce the state of animated silence, they decided to move out to a quieter junction, perhaps to a food station!

So did they march along with the nonchalant questions of present well being and so on। The food did wonders; nothing else could have otherwise explained the radical visible changes. Then it happened! The first touch! She took his arm and gave a peg and he didn’t mind it a bit. When the caressing did melt the hours, was beyond comprehension on after thought. But it did. Everything sounded better from her. She too listened with passion, the things she hardly entertained in chats. Such was the silent intensity!

Seldom has there been anything good about good bye except for debunking the latent emotions। The auto drive back forth surfaced the sentimental issues. He was quiet, she was rapt. Silence was to witness the trying hard to hold tears and the patting re-assurance. The whole gamut, ran through months of chat ran in single vivid flame. It felt miraculous to be in each others company aloof from reality. He saw her loosing reins, loosing herself in belief. He would wait.He promised he would wait for her train.

P.S. When people around you start spinning stories, the cult is rather far too challenging not to catch up.

Eerie Haunts!!

Its time, in fact a lot of time, too much of waters have passed under the bridge! I finally decide to rest my resolution aside for meanwhile and come up with something for the blog। Some grey cells turned BLACK (dead), few blood cells enflamed (AGNEE) and rest of the cells, memory ones seems to have ceased multiplying.

Confusing? For those who credited me with normal average memory power this post might make some sense. For others, check out the writings of OSHO :P. The other day, D day (Re-Kriti Finals), to my utter surprise I was clueless to what might my blog address be! Not even my assumed pen name! I was left to the state of stammered silent cursing.

This by no means is the beginning of the indication. During one off the walks to SARDAR, I found myself coming in different angles in tryst to come up with the word “auction”.It was not the one off words. “Exploit” as a word had to be explained as “Shoshan”. The interesting arguments in leading to my re-realisation of the word, notwithstanding, I see me loosing my reins.

So flooded was I with the chunk of memories garbaged over 21 years, that it reiterated upon myself in forms. It culminated in a series of reflections! The life without memory?Inking your body with words as memento? Letting your brain process a little longer in order to whet back pleasant days? Yuck, have I been sounding too pessimistic?

Unbelievingly enough I get across this telegraph article as if to remind me “ पिक्चर अभी बाकी है दोस्तों”। The guy in case, keeps coming back and loves the same thing over and over again. Proposing his wife all over again and again and again! Did he not freeze time at its most elusive point? The idea of diminishing returns would still be a no-no place. Without memory we would just be hapless at the scenarios around us. But that does not restrict us from attaching value to things, reacting to stimuli by automatic instinct.

Yet, we reinforce the taxed brain for memory. Important dates! Yet we fall on the implications. How much are we aware of at each moment is rather limited. We assimilate and force opinions on prior experience and present conscience. The instincts, first impression lose its way to time. No wonder the world needs few million billions of TB!

अशांत सांझ

सांझ है धुंधली, दिल में हैं कल्पनाएं अनेक,

दिल के वाद थे कितने, मगर पडी एक अहम अनेक,

स्नेह निर्झर बह गया, अर्थ जीवन का ढह गया,

दिल उस घात पर टीक गया, जहाँ जमाना हंसती थी मैं रो गया


दर्द नही कोई सी पाया, ठहाके नही छिन्नेक,

गाता रह गया बैठा वहाँ, अवागा प्राणी एक,
यहीं दिलों के हाट में, जुटे मनचले यार,
कोल्हाहल, उन्सुनी कर सारा संसार


वो हंसी आज भी गूंजती है, कहती थी,
फिर भी अपने में रहती थी,
सबकी सुनती थी, सबको सुनाती थी,
साये के परिचय बिना सूक्ष्म अंतर स्तगित थी

zZZzzzZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZ.....

Well, I had been lazy. I own it. But hardly ‘sleep all day’ is attributed to lethargy. There had been innumerable quotes on how sleep could mend things, boost spirits.

“ In hindsight, life is really a funny game,

And for a deserved break, sleep's the name.”

Yet, I have been troubled by it. Not by the lack of it, the excess of it. I had always believed dawn is the time when men of reason take to bed. Yet, infallibly these days (read after Kanpur), I am unable to resist the look of my bed. Neither have I been dumped nor have I been onto pills. Yet the sweet magic crawls into me, propelling me to close my eyes for as long as I could do. Even 11 hours (Excludes the short naps) at a stretch at night sees a tired me in morning. Well it is not what I am complaining about. It is just that I am curious. I heard sleeping habits are a true indicator to ones personality. Am I through a personality make-over?

Sleep is not merely “down time” between episodes of me being alive. Within the constitution we spend almost one third of our life in the necessary evil sleep. Is it a frameless mechanism? Metabolism, Anabolism and we might have another “Beddobolism” as a beacon. What really transpires? Some wake animated, whilst some look to finish the unfinished job. Then there are some who look worse for the sleep. It’s like quenching a thirsty with a drop – leaving him panting for more. Seems a devils day advocate is on duty. While some enjoy it ignorantly I wait my verdict with soporific and heavy eye lids.

Football or foOtbAlL?

What do you crave more football or football or football? Hard choice don’t you say? The more you think about it the more you feel it seeping through your porous skin. With so many different sports, why as a religion do we love the pig skin so much? Is it really explicable?

It gives hopes, plenty of it, to square up with anyone. From a little known peddler you can stir up into the popularity ratings. But it sort of applies to people outside to this country. Still, the passion runs deep and never dries.

Football is as much about the beauty as much it is about pain. Maybe that propels us. With an injured ankle, few tablets and Relispray you take up the field for the sake of your little whim. The whim which promises exaltation! Maybe the hope of scoring a goal steers me or is it the acknowledgment of the team mates I crave for? “Sexy hai yaar…” that’s the quote you fumble across every now and then. Genuine appreciation whether be it your team mate or opposition. One game which makes me acknowledges the greatness of the other player almost unknowingly.

Is it for the real joy of running around with the pigskin? The grass, the emptiness of field, visage of the goalie? It certainly is not the only outlet of emotions. Even then it turns out to be the best proposition. The tackle, the cross over, step over runs wild in mind…. Is it the psychology which is running wild or am I longing for football? Football as a game comes first to me, even when I am not good at it by any stretch. Nor is it the only game which I tried hand in. I understand that I play other games a little better. Running around the ball, making up for lost opportunities is what I yearn for.

P.S. Still I can’t fathom why do I still prefer football ground to others? Pour in suggestions to make my life a little simpler.

Ssshhhhhhhhhhhh...........

Well, nothing compares to the internet facility in our rooms (however slow it may be). Finally, stepping the usual profanities aside managed to gather energy to clean up my blog.

Setting: Padagaon , Khantapara

Well the locale might not arise many brows. The aforementioned place does deserve a place for the similes involving simplicity. Well, morons if you still haven’t got the place, it’s my village. The simplicity doesn’t come from the ignorance or being technologically ridden, it’s somehow inherent to the place. Well, the occasion this time was a marriage of a distant relative (Could not find other word to explain the tardiness of the complex relation). The atmosphere electric and the environ chattery. This was the moment the skies decided to open up, not to bless the lucky couple but to rain their vivaah into delay.

Most of you might be aware of the floods due to excessive rains in those parts of the country. Skipping through the merciless drops of thunder let me get into the real backdrop the narrative. Water gushed in left right left and in no time the ground floor was half immersed in water. It meant days of idle sitting, maybe weeks. But we kids choose to disagree. With the help of one of the servant we clamped a knot to the rod and went for the long wait. Yeah, you guessed it right our fishing net was on and shhhh…. Fishes do hear the vibrations.

Awn it went, the fishing expedition! The first catch was a prize “catla” about one and half kilos. The years of sitting in stealth seemed to wear off with that single catch. The kind of feeling surpassed any other (Believe me for I have been through a gamut of emotions). This marked the beginning of romance with nets and waiting silently. The flour was arranged for they were the best bait after earthworms. This followed two more prize catches, local species. The good water kept decent level for four more days and we had fun unlimited. The fishing then gave way to relentless feast on the guava trees. The big melons were quite sumptuous. Moving through the crevices breaking fences and chupke se eating made for a memorable week. Alas! Memories will serve me till destiny makes the next trip.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.......

Sometimes words fail you in spite of your urge to write something. Words have never been anyone’s slave, but my inability of picking a topic to write on made matters worse. Left with no choice, I commence.

Outside there was the usual hustle and bustle, inside was stirringly quite.

Outside there were the four directions whereas the inside was looking at the fifth direction.

It was dark and someone came around and sat besides me. In similar situations I would have been asked for a dance in the rain yet this time it was all different. Judging the gravity if it, it was decided to let the cries afloat once without the mask of rain.

Then, I staggered to look up and mumbled “I dunno…. Maybe….What if….” A series of incomprehensible nothings.

“You are no good”.

“Don’t let your brain and heart wreck”

“But something has to be done, can’t live on the shore of deserted island forever”

“Possibly the morrow has some better marks on the cards to free my brain”

“What about your heart?”

“Dunno, I am alright….”

“Lets keep arguing, maybe it will yield a result”

“How can talking possibly help in mending the wall?”

“Did that not let you in the hole?”

“But it was necessary….”

“It is necessary that you talk”

Suddenly a piece of crumpled paper in form of paper rocket blocked the vision.

“Even when crumpled to the last degree, this rocket never ceases to leak the joys while it traverses from one point to another. This worthless piece still finds no remembrance, the irony of fate!!!”

P.S It is the most incoherent a read as it ever gets to top it someone was pointing at the vocab prowess I presumably possess.

Zindagggiiiiii

Un raaho mein paaya maine apne aap ko

Chiraag bhi kam they jahan roshni ke liye

Lau mili thi dil ke deeye se

Phir bhi anjaan thi nigaahein sacchai se

Siskiyon ne nirjeev kiya marm se,

Zindagi nammin hui geele kaagaz mein

koi jalata bhi nahin koi bahata bhi nahin,

is qadar hain akele rahaon mein dil ki,

koi bulata bhi nahi koi batlata bhi nahin

Auron ne toh kya Rangon ne bhi bewaafai ka saath diya !!!!

mAstErpIeCE

The pic says it all.. Doesnt it??

BUNDLE OF CONTRADICTIONS!!

Ever been in a situation where you curse and bless your present existence in same breath? Been in a position where you acquired a hell lot more than what you bargained for? I yearned for a little free time and I end up with the ocean of nothingness. Perhaps the only flaw in doing nothing is one doesn’t get to know when he is finished!

Nobody grudges earning a little “own-time”. Does this represent a reasoned judgement or merely foolishness, I wonder. Yet my mind reasons that “We may not be aware of the passing instants, but as we go on ceaselessly spending them, suddenly the term of life is on us”. Whereas my heart is adamant on the point that moments aren’t anymore passing they seem to have frozen. Well then am I to stare into oblivion with nothingness or completeness? Yes, I am reduced to a bundle of contradictions. Period.

I blink for umpteen number of times and frown at my helplessness. Claiming I miss football and badminton would be an understatement. Even the football videos have lost the sheen and I can’t possibly grasp why. The consoles of “GET WELL SOON” sound so acrimoniously acidic that I am prompted to retort as “It gives me immense pleasure in being crooked (physically)”. To couple up worries everyone suddenly seems all bustled up in daily chores that a neat dossier of chat is hard to come by. Yeah I am left to enjoy my vigil of loneliness!!!

Curved Or Hinged????

BEND IT LIKE ME!!!!!

The tackle, the roll over, the twisted finger and the day seemed to stop. Rushed forth was I to the doctor, the pain reaching unbearable limits. Alas! Some hopes are best hope hopen. I tottered to my feet, trying to mask up a cheery benignity but to see a queue of ‘patient-friends’ called for appalling empathy. To top it all the ‘doctor-saab’ was busy with someone else (non-patients). I concluded I can be the master of all situations, until I feel helpless at the hands of the irony. Then with the silhouette of a hound he pounced upon the injured finger. Perhaps I was too casual in thinking that I commanded tender caressing; but hounds can only be blood hounds. Bearing the initial damage I was left at the hands of a merciless assistant. Led me to the X ray room and asked me to lie down on a stretcher hardly 4 feet long. As if this didn’t go down as irksome, he too let his medical hand do some checking. If it weren’t for the friends by the side I had every suspicion of my foot being demolished instead of getting polished!!!! At least the timelyPJs of theirs were keeping date with history and a respite from the brutal all side attack.

Round one confirmed I had dislocated my finger and it needed to be straightened up. Dislocated seems to be a very qualitative term. Curving of finger by right angles might sound more quantitative. The doc in pretence of getting my attention got on and awn with his gibberish without any effect. Then some sarcastic comment relating DAIICT and NIFT attracted some chuckles. I then realised some people are better off being strung up by thumbs. To add to the all the crap, he banded (at least tried to link) my moaning in pain with the loss of Indian cricket team in world cup!!!!!

Round three saw me again cuddled up (read lying) in the stretcher, and vacuous light emitting machine pin pointing the various angles of the my cursed fingers. As if solacing the wounded soldier I got another x ray and this time without a slight glitch. God Bless!!

Well I staggered to my feet thinking it’s done for good when he sentenced me to thoughts claiming me to visit him after a week. God Bless me!!!

PARADOX!!!!

After a lot of dilly-dallying the mind reconciled to the fact that the efforts did not deserve enough. Clarion call for New Year resolutions stems up from the veins and the eyes portray the burning desire to catapult back to normalcy. The dry leaf of hope this time around is buoyed by reason of mind. Marks had never been the litmus test for talent- I was a staunch disciple of the above statement. But when things go wrong when they are least expected to be more often than not, one really is bent to hope against hope. May be what I have been following was a utopia. Alas! Not all lovers live to romance in utopia.

Like the ripples in a pond the mind waves brought the leaf (reason) to the shore. If not the indicator it is probably the outlet to channel all the positive outbursts. Exams are perhaps the system to regulate sporadic nature to regular jinx. But then is it worth it??? Once in a blue moon cliché loses charm and life becomes the same old drab and mundane. Basically I am being a bundle of contradictions right now. After all sifting an equation to my favour is what I am trying when exams knock at the door a week away. This paradox may beat the Bertrand’s Paradox after all. Easy it may seem, but difficult to solve…Guys help!!!!!

TRIBUTE!!!!

A collective sort of amnesia grips the whole of mankind together when a few colossi take field to redraw the lines of imagination. To an aesthete the milestones left as prints seem insignificant when compared to the ageless beauty, breathtaking conception and dazzling lyricism of art. These are far too few rare moments when sports relegate over the earthly pastures to the celestial realm. When these sportsmen decide to call it a day the whole of mankind is united in celebration of their achievements but tears are bound to flow uncontrolled.

The past year had seen many giants of their respective sports hanging their boots in the twilight of their career. Michael Schumacher,Martina Navaritilova, Andre Aggasi, Shane Warne, Zinedine Zidane, Glen Mcgrath would virtually flat the globe and mesmerise every spectator with the baffling range of geniuses and perfection. Like aging culture restorer, all of the aforementioned players revitalized the game with the inputs of their own and breathed life in the seemingly monotonous walk. Not that their skills are too alien to us but every time they conjured magic we were left spell bound with the timing of the magic wand.

A very few modern sportsmen may have found as much inspiration in the face of adversity, as much light when surrounded by darkness, as has Shane Warne. The man had seemingly inexhaustible source to surprise and belie his critics (if there were any). The only bowler in Wisden's Top Five cricketers of the 20th century speaks volumes. Bowling with pin point precision from the back of the hand was perhaps a lost art had it not been for Warne. Mental toughness, superlative skills and one pointed drive drove him past the lesser mortals to the pedestal of great. The “Gatting Ball” will be treasured and adored world wide till someone of Warne’s calibre doesn’t come by and stretch imagination. Despite being a ‘bit of lad’ he perennially took the centre stage in field for 13 long and demanding years. His geniuses were summoned for the semi finales and the finals where he wrecked havoc to the South Africans and Pakistanis. Yet there he left smiling and cunning at the same time.

Schumacher! These days when another Michael (Scofield) is taking to the heart of people this Mike is quietly enjoying his personal drive. But it hasn’t been long when the chequered flags awaited the whistle of his engine. The improbable vision of a cut through, the mental toughness of steel he had in him all the abilities to rise the world. As to prove Sherlock right, (the hereditary genes are more pronounced in elder sibling than in younger) he just took the bastion and kept moving without the fear of looking back as to who is following or not. Such has been his predominance. The world has certainly seen the best driver over the years to have adorned the tracks.

Martina and Aggasi!!! Like undying spirit these extra ordinary sportsmen kept reminding age can’t precede the love. They kept coming and bewilder us. Simple reason being the things we expect from the game played by youngsters is gracefully warded off by them with a tick of never say die attitude. At the twilight of career one can hardly put their money on them to chase each ball down. But these were people above average, even above good. They carved a niche for themselves in the heart of fans and the tennis court.

The stories of extra ordinary battle on field of these two protagonists will long be etched in memory.

Zinedine Zidane!! Head butt?? Is that what he will be remembered for??? May be I am hearing some emphatic no’s already. If someone’s game is termed parallel to the poets imagery it would be a sheer insult if he goes down in the annals of history as a tempestuous guy. With a ballerina’s shift the ruses of Zizou along with the cleverly chipped pass and duck of shimmy will go down as one of the best things to have happened to world football the last decade. His presence was not all about individualistic, he commanded respect and inspired players to shed indifferent form and come up with best. The law-breaking, convention-shattering instinct in superstars such as Zidane makes us admire his guile even at the sub conscious level.

Glen Mcgrath!! Perhaps a word has been coined to mean same as much as pin point accuracy. Talent!! Even talent as special as that possessed by Mcgrath — is a rather fragile thing. Hard work, Overs come and go by but the ball finds no other place to land on except where directed by ‘the PIGEON’.Yet, there he is, atop Mount Mcgrath, breathing in the rarefied air as if born to do it, and looking good to scale another big summit. As democratic as sport is at one level, at another it gloriously magnifies inequality. Just compare Mcgrath -clean, disciplined, hard working with the wayward, impetuous pace bowlers of his era…Well, forget it, there is no comparison.