Roommate



Being roommates with someone is not easy. Often you do not get to meet the person before you start sharing a room. With sharing a room comes sharing personal space. And doing that is difficult with strangers. Knowing someone takes time, and circumstances often do not allow you that much time; in many cases you just assume that the person whom you are sharing a room with is accountable enough to be trusted with basic things. You just assume that your roommate must be as vulnerable and insecure as you are when he comes to know that a stranger will be sharing a room with him. I met Madhav like that. I assumed a lot of things.

I came into the institute as a first year graduate student and was allotted a room in the students’ hostel. Classes were held in the department which was less than a kilometer away. I had my own bicycle. I used to wake up early in the morning and go for my classes. After spending the entire day in the department, burdened under loads of homework and assignments, I used to return to my room only late at night. It was the first time I was living in a hostel. 

Madhav was already living in that room for last one year without any roommate. I came to hear that his previous roommate requested the hostel office for a single room. Getting a single room was not easy in our campus. Not that the administration didn’t grant any but it was mostly the senior students who were preferred. So I didn’t have a choice. And Madhav was in his second year. 

Madhav was not happy to see a roommate when I moved in. He didn’t say anything but his reaction was transparent. I didn’t like him either. He was weird. He had long hair and no one knew how many times a month he used to put shampoo on it. His clothes were far from clean – the reason, as I later figured, was his reluctance to wash them by himself. He would be in the same clothes for days and would visit the laundry only once in two months. He didn’t speak much. Often would ignore me when I tried to talk. And would suddenly start discussing things when he saw me do my assignments; he had two subwoofers plugged into his laptop and I didn’t have the slightest idea how they became active only when I tried to focus on my studies! Because of him I tried not to come to room on an evening before a test. I found the library more comfortable. In a way, that served his purpose too; that would give him enough opportunity to smoke ganja.

I didn’t know about this habit of his at the beginning; he used to do it when I was away. Later I came to know that he had his own group of friends who considered this pastime with passion. I came to room one evening and saw him smoking alongside three of his friends. I didn’t even smoke cigarettes so the smell of weed suffocated me. Madhav welcomed me with a grin, “You came early tonight! Done with
your studies?” “Ya!” I said, still standing at the door thinking whether to enter or to go to the library.
“Hi Gokul!” his friends greeted me, “Want to join us?” “No!” I said. “I don’t like that smell” is what I wanted to add but resisted myself from it. Madhav caught that I was feeling uneasy. He blew a ring of smoke and said, “You see, it’s not good for the mind; it messes things up here”, he pointed at his head, “Particularly not good if you have class in the morning!” “I have a mid-term test tomorrow”, I said. One of Madhav’s friends was clearly embarrassed, he wanted to leave. Madhav calmed him, looked at me and said, “And not at all good if you have a test in the morning!” “I don’t want to smoke!” I said. Madhav grinned impishly and reiterated, “I meant passive smoking is not good if you have a test tomorrow morning!” I had to spend the next three hours in the library that evening before it closed at eleven o clock. Fortunately when I returned that night the episode was over. The light of the room was out. His friends have left. Madhav was asleep.

Smoking weed inside campus was obviously an offense. But some people used to do it, and with enough caution, they succeeded. Nobody complained to the authorities mostly because students who practiced it made sure that it didn’t disturb anyone else. Madhav didn’t have that concern however; not at least with me! Some residents of the hostel told me that he did weed quite regularly and that his earlier roommate had complained against him, so the hostel authorities gave him a separate room. Madhav had got a warning; things became a bit serious and he had to quit weed for weeks. That was one year back.

Sometimes, to know a person, you need to know his habits. I came to know Madhav’s habits, and thus him. But, seldom, it would seem that he didn’t like some of his own habits! At times he would sit and brood quietly in one corner of the room, refusing to talk to anyone. It would then become clear that he had several grievances about his one year stay in campus.

The mid-terms had started and I was somehow managing to cope with the dual pressure of academics and my roommates’ tantrums, when, suddenly, one evening, I saw him packing his bags. I asked if he was going somewhere. He told me that he was going to his home for three days. Madhav was a localite. The news came as a relief because it meant that I could study in my room at nights. And the fact that I won’t be welcomed into the room by that persistent smell of weed for 3 whole nights seemed so enthralling!

However, the happiness didn’t last long. That night, as I fell asleep, I was woken up by a murmur! Somebody was whispering to me in the dark. It took me a while to realize that it was Madhav! “You came back!” I said, surprisingly. “Yes!” he said, “The house was locked. Seems like my dad went somewhere. The surprise visit didn’t pay off!” “Of course!” I thought; “So why did you wake me up?” I asked. “Gokul!” he said, “You were talking in your sleep!”

I was taken aback. I tried to summarize the situation. Madhav goes to his home, comes back, knocks at the door and I wake up and open it for him (none of which I remembered) and then I go to sleep again, and Madhav also goes to his bed; and then, it is me who wakes him up at the middle of the night –doing what! I never spoke in my sleep.

“You are joking or what!” I said. “Joking!” he sat up on his bed, “You were shouting, I couldn’t sleep!” “See, Madhav!” I said, “I have a mid-term exam tomorrow morning! Let me sleep!” “You let me sleep! I am tired” he said, “All this journey to home and back! It’s you who woke us up!”

That claim was preposterous. I didn’t remember a thing. It was obviously not possible to know what really happened. I rather thought Madhav was up to something. His suddenly cancelling his home trip itself gave off something suspicious. “What was I talking about?” I asked him. “Don’t know”, he said, “I could only make out that you were shouting: Baba! Baba! Ok it’s over now. Let me sleep man!”

Baba! Why on earth would I be interested in calling out to my father at the middle of the night? Was I having a dream? I remembered my mother used to tell me that I used to talk and laugh in my sleep when I was a child. I spoke gibberish mostly. Not for long intervals; intermittently. Madhav could be right! But he could be pulling off a prank too! There was no way of knowing. I stayed awake for a long time trying to figure out what the truth was. Eventually I fell asleep.

Next morning I woke up late. I looked at the watch and made out that my class had already started! Fortunately the exam was scheduled after lunch. I hurried.

That night when I came to room Madhav was not there. It was already eleven at night. I had another class-test the next morning. And this time it was in the first period. So I had to get up early. I deliberately kept the door open so that Madhav doesn’t have to knock when he comes. I fell fast asleep.

I was startled to hear someone laughing at the middle of the night! I woke up instantly. It was Madhav again. He was laughing madly and rolling on his bed. It all irritated me to my core. “What is it?” I asked. “Who is Priya?” he asked. He kept on laughing as if someone has given him nitrous oxide. “Who is Priya?” I said, “How do I know? Why do you keep waking me up like this every night! I told you I have my mid-terms running!” “Manh! You should listen to yourself!” he was still laughing, “You were proposing to some girl in your sleep!”

Now that was unbelievable! Not because I couldn’t talk in my sleep – I was not really confident about that – but because I didn’t know any girl by that name! I quickly went through the names of the girls, in my mind, which I had come to know during my two months stay inside campus and none of those matched with Priya! “Dude!” I said in a cold tone, “I do not know anyone called Priya! You were dreaming!” Madhav stopped laughing. He stopped it very suddenly as if he really got serious. “What did you say?” he asked. “It is you who is dreaming that I am talking in my sleep!”, I said, “Could you not do this for the next couple of days please! I have my exams scheduled in the mornings.” “I am dreaming!” he hissed, “You say it is me who is dreaming! I can’t sleep because of you. I also have work in the morning; I also have classes to attend. All these two months it was okay but now as you have your exams going on, don’t know why, you are under a lot of stress. I can see it! It is you who didn’t study! It is you who is conjuring up odd dreams in your head! And not only that, you are waking your roommate up – regularly, at the middle of the night – and on top of all that you are not ready to admit that you talk in your sleep!”

I felt a bit scared. Not that I had doubts in my mind on whether I actually did it. I didn’t! It’s tough to say whether I spoke in my sleep. Not only me, but if anyone is accused today of that kind of a crime, I am sure, they will face tough times answering themselves. No one can ever be sure. And sleep talking is not that rare too. Many people talk in their sleep. Mostly children do. But some adults also do! It’s not like a rare disease or something that I needed to get worried about. It was a common thing. But this time, I was confident that Madhav was lying. I could have said something maybe, but in no way I could have uttered that name Priya! How can I say someone’s name in my sleep if I didn’t know about that name in real life! And that made me feel scared because I was certain Madhav was up to something. Either he was dreaming about all this – in which case too I needed to get worried because he was waking me up every night, mostly when I had my exams in the mornings – or he was deliberately trying to mess things up in my head before my exams. But why would he do that?

“I have never known anyone called Priya!” I told him, “Why are you doing all this?” “You are crazy or what!” he shouted, “Why will I do all this by myself? Unless I really wanted to get rid of you; and for that, now I think, I have to go to the hostel office and lodge a complaint against you!” His intentions were becoming clear. So that was what Madhav wanted! He already had his previous roommate complaining about him; and from what I could read, he never liked roommates! So now if he could make up some story about my sleep-talking, maybe, the hostel administration would give him a single room! In a way, that was also what I wanted, to get rid of him; but through this way the administration won’t come to know about the truth: that it was me who was going through all the pain of sharing a room with Madhav. I had to do something!

“I don’t believe you!” I said. “What!” he sounded bewildered. It was the middle of the night and the lights were out. Whatever I could see of him was a shadow. And all this time that shadow was lying on his bed. This time it sat up. “Tomorrow night I will take a video with my mobile phone!” the shadow hissed, “And I will show it to you! And then, I will go and complain against you!” “Do it!” I said, “And please, I have a request, do not wake me up at the middle of the night to show the video! I will rather see it the next morning. Not that I believe you will actually have something authentic to show me!” “We’ll see!” Madhav murmured, “We’ll see!”

Next morning I woke up well past the time of the exam. That was the first exam I missed. I ran to the class. The professor didn’t allow me to enter. He said he will talk to me later. I didn’t have all this planned! I made up my mind that tomorrow morning I will go to the hostel office and complain about Madhav’s late night tantrums, and of course about his smoking habits. I was just waiting to see what video he gets! 

That night I came back early. And as always I didn’t see Madhav there! Three days in a row! Why is he regularly coming so late at night? Mostly he used to be in room from evening itself, smoking pot. Maybe I was right! He was really up to something; deliberately doing it to disturb my peace of mind. Anyway! I didn’t think much about it. I went to sleep. Fortunately I didn’t have any exam next morning.

Very oddly indeed no one woke me up that night. I woke up very early next morning. I presumed it was around six o clock! I woke up and smelled weed. My eyes searched around the room till they eventually found Madhav. He was smoking in the room early in the morning! I wanted to ask him to stop but somehow my tongue got stuck. I couldn’t speak! My head felt heavy. I felt drugged. Madhav looked at me. He was looking like an animal. “I was having a light fun with you!” he said, “But I never knew you had such dangerous plans ahead.” I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. I tried so hard to talk but I could not. “Not that I was lying about your sleep talking episodes” he said, drawing a chair near to my bed and sitting down on it, “But I never thought of really going and complaining to the administration!” He took a puff and blew a ring of smoke at my face. “I underestimated you, you are dangerous!” he said, “You know what could happen to me if you go to the administration complaining about my smoking habits! They may throw me out of the institute! I will be finished!” He was smoking too close to me. I felt very uneasy. I wanted to get up and leave the room but, surprisingly, I couldn’t. My body seemed stuck to my bed with glue and I couldn’t even move a finger. I was so sure Madhav had drugged me! 

“This is what you said last night!” he took his phone out and brought its screen near my eyes. I couldn’t turn my head. I was paralyzed! He played a video. It was dark and I could hear two voices. I couldn’t see anything, no one could see and make anything out of that video; it was pitch black! One of the voices was Madhav’s. He was the one who was talking less. I heard another voice and I was confident it was not mine. That voice was murmuring something regarding lodging a complaint for smoking weed. It was unclear, discrete and intermittent. I wanted to tell him that it was not mine and in no way he could prove that it was mine! 

The room was filling up with smoke. I could see the door being slightly open; it was not locked. The windows were closed. My eyes and lungs started to burn. It was a horrible feeling! To get stuck to your bed early in the morning by some magical force, mutely watching your environment turn hostile. I wondered how he could have drugged me while I was asleep! I didn’t know if he practiced other kinds of drugs but I heard there were people who would inject drugs through a syringe! I didn’t know if Madhav had injected me with something. Or did he really? What was it? Could it paralyze a human body? How long will it have its effect? Will I be paralyzed all my life? Was it toxic? Was he trying to kill me? I could make out that somehow he knew about my plans of complaining to the administration. But would he really try to kill me for that? Or was he in his senses after all? Aren’t people supposed to do all sorts of crazy things under the effect of drugs?  

Madhav smoked weed by taking the ingredients in a paper refill. It looked like a cigarette. Now he put it in my mouth. “Smoke!” he said, “Smoke and tell me how is it.” I couldn’t move my lips. It was horribly bitter. I wanted to cough but somehow my body didn’t even allow me to do that! “How can people pass remarks about something that they haven’t tried themselves!” Madhav was clearly resentful, “You smoke and then go to the administration to lodge your complaint. I have had enough of you.” I was chocking. And I felt so much out of breadth that I was certain that my lungs would collapse.

I don’t remember how long it went like that but eventually I could really move! I could cough out loudly and move my head around the room and could see all its corners. I was not paralyzed anymore! And I saw the windows open. And I saw Madhav, sitting patiently on that chair, most probably waiting for me to wake up. He looked different: slightly decent. I presumed two hours had passed. 

“I’ll kill you!” I told him. They were the first words I could utter after a long time. I was sweating heavily. “What!” Madhav said, “Why?” I could see Madhav in nice clothes and it looked as if he had shampooed his hair after a long time. He sat in that chair looking questioningly at me. The room didn’t smell of weed anymore. The fan was rotating wildly above my head. I looked at the watch, it was ten!

“Why do you want to kill me?” he asked, “Are you all right?” “Why were you smoking in the room early this morning?” I sat up on my bed. “Who? Me!” Madhav looked stunned, “I just returned from my home. Whom are you talking about?”

I saw a bag with him, the same one he had left with three days back. I wondered why I didn’t see it in the room all these days! My head felt very heavy. My limbs felt weak. It was as if I was recovering from some fever. “I came in around 8 o clock in the morning”, Madhav said, “I wondered why you kept the door ajar! I saw you sleeping, with that blanket on you, and I found you moaning in sleep. It was as if someone was chocking you. I thought you were having a nightmare or something!” “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. But he did look like a different Madhav! “I thought of waking you up”, he said, “But you didn’t wake up! You were in deep sleep. Your eyes were half-open. And you were making funny sounds. It was a frightful sight!” 

It took me a while to float back to reality. I didn’t tell Madhav anything of what I thought happened. It was not necessary for him to know. I made out that Madhav was not here for the last three days. Some of our neighbors, in adjacent rooms, told me that they have heard me talk at nights. The door was always open! Some of them tried to peep in to see whom I talked to but they said they didn’t see anybody and further they couldn’t make out what was I saying. “It was all gibberish”, one of them said later, “Don’t worry! It’s not a terrible disease! It’s called somniloquy. Google it!” I tried my best not to let Madhav know anything. He asked me a lot of questions and would often make fun of me. But he couldn’t find out regarding that hostel-office complaint thing that I planned in my dream. I never complained against him.

Later that day, back in the department, I googled sleep-talking. I found something called ‘sleep paralysis’ as well. They also had some videos on it in Youtube. I wonder if that was what I experienced that morning when I tried to move but couldn’t. The websites talked about thousands of people having evil hallucinations during sleep paralysis. I didn’t know if I used to have such seizures when I was a child, my mother never told me about them! She only mentioned about the somniloquy part. My head felt light after a long time. Everything started to make sense as I searched for an explanation. It was as if I was waking up from a nightmare.

Being roommates with someone is not easy. Sometimes, it’s only after you had taken an initial step towards understanding your roommate you come to know something unique about him. Something that matters, and, in a way, affects you too! That Madhav smoked weed with his friends sometimes in the room affected me. I compromised by escaping to the library. That I had these somniloquy and sleep paralyses episodes frustrated Madhav. It was not as frequent as his smoking trysts; I experienced it much less when the mid-terms got over. Sleep paralyses would happen to me about once a month; the sleep talking was slightly more frequent. But I got a feeling of what it was like in the real world, when he really heard me blabbering in sleep and saw me having seizures. He didn’t wake me up, and also didn’t really care to take a video. He also never complained against me. He found a way out. He used to put his earplugs before going to sleep; it became a habit for him.

Being Friends


He who asks

Of your well being, and rises

To your need

Is a friend for ever.

We lie to the

Moments of togetherness by forgetting, however,

Just the same

Remains the bond – hidden in time.

The future will

Evolve from

Adam to atom

And so,

To be mature,

A friendship must attend

To what matters --

Nostalgia, dreams, and the present, so that

We can draw

Each other, every now and then,

In a semi-circle,

Over a cup of coffee.

 
 
This was written 2 years back:   originally posted in Symmetry

To Be

I often despise myself. Because I fool myself and welcome pain in the process. As if to get pain is what I desire! Don't know whether this stupid thing has any name but masochism comes closer. It's heroic to survive great pains, it's okay at times even to masochise, but it's utterly weird to spice up a story in your mind that invites pain!

My life had been immensely empty: means I had nothing to get involved into, nothing to concentrate on. I had been superbly lazy all through. Had always shaken off responsibilities and tasks that take time; no matter how important they are they were never important to me.

Now, in this place in Bangalore, it appears I am slowly getting involved in something. But since the process is slow and developing I often tend to drift back in the world of lazyness, halucinations and masochism in which I lived before. They say that an idle brain is a devil's workshop. I now understand what it means: my mind had been idle for 25 years now and that makes me a matured devil already!  :P I know if someone can help me get out of this and make me who I actually am then it's myself only. It's like getting out of the maze that had you for 25 years -- it's difficult but I must do it: because it's stupid to be in a world that doesn't exist! The last thing I want to do is to cover myself up in the dirty carpet of hallucinations and false pain which somehow makes me believe that the world is bad and it did something bad to me whereas the truth simply is that I had been lazy to be the person who I actually am!

Incomplete - Backstreet Boys - Lyrics

Empty spaces fill me up with holes,
Distant faces with no place left to go.
Without you, within me I can find no rest.
Where I'm going is anybody's guess.

I tried to go on like I never knew you.
I'm awake but my world is half asleep!
I've prayed for this heart to be unbroken,
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete.

Voices tell me I should carry on.
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone...
Baby, my baby,
It's written on your face
(that) You still wonder if we made a big mistake!

I don't mean to drag it on,
But I can't seem to let you go.
I don't wanna make you face this world alone...

I've tried to go on like I never knew you.
I'm awake but my world is half asleep!
I've prayed for this heart to be unbroken,
But without you what I'm going to be is incomplete.

Yin and Yang


"Time is running out!"
--"I know."
"Do something about it!"
--"I am no one."
"Whatever you are, you are enough."
--"Not enough for me."
"You'll hardly get anyone to love you if you do not change!"
--"I am happy like this."
"No, you are not."
--"Maybe I am not!"
"Then do something about it."
--"I won't."
"Why?"
--"Because I think that is not necessary."
"Do you think you won't need anyone tomorrow?"
--"I would need someone maybe."
"Then do something about it."
--"But it's today!"
"If you don't do it today tomorrow won't come."
--"Maybe it will be different!"
"Do you want that to happen?"
--"I want nothing."
"That is your Ego speaking."
--"Maybe."
"Tomorrow I won't be here."
--"I know."
"I am telling this for you. Not for myself!"
--"I know."
"You know nothing."
--"Maybe."
"Don't answer like that. I am not trying to fight with you."
--"I know."
"Then what is your problem?"
--"My problem is that today I am no one."
"You are not no one to me."
--"I want to become someone to everyone!"
"I am not stopping you!"
--"I know."
"Then do something about it."
--"I hope you had told me this four years from now."
"It's the same thing!"
--"It's not."
"I can't stay like this for four years!"
--"Don't."
"Is that your Ego speaking?"
--"No. I said it because I love you."
"You don't love me."
--"I do."
"Then why are you being so foolish? You are destroying everything that we have built together."
--"I am not destroying!"
"Bullshit! You want me to keep it all in my heart like this for another four years?!"
--"I want nothing."
"I am sorry. I won't be able to hold."
--"Don't be sorry."
"It's not my fault. Trust me."
--"I trust you."
"What happens if you see someone else in my life tomorrow?"
--"I won't hurt you."
"But you will get hurt."
--"It doesn't matter. I love you. And I always will."
"Time is running out. At least for me. You won't understand!"
--"I understand."
"If you do, why the hell are you not doing anything about it?"
--"I am doing my best!"
"You could do much better than this!"
--"I can't."
"That's untrue."
--"No, it's not. I am still no one."

Maaya, me and this Warped Space-Time



It has been a weary journey since the day I first knocked at your door, Maaya. And I was elated and excited to stand at your doorstep now after all that search!

The first time I came here, I remember, I had thought that I would be ushered into a room full of roses -- red, yellow, white -- spreading their scent all across. I had thought I would find you sitting there, wearing a rich, red gown. I had thought you would be taking me in your arms. And that we would start our happy journey together.

But the door had opened, that day, only to let me find a note. A note that you had left behind for me. I couldn't find you! Nobody was there in that room. No flowers. No scents wafting in the midday air. A few blank walls, windows and a half-shut door that I had left behind.
The note had one word in it. I had read. And I had failed to find the meaning.

I remember standing there with a strange awkwardness of solitude, that of isolation. As though I sensed that you were guiding me towards a particular path and that it was gradually segregating me from my environment! I had seen the sunlight dripping into the room through the ventilators. The windows were closed. I thought of opening them but later I had realised that they were all jammed; they just wouldn't open!

I had dreamed seeing you in that room, in the red gown, bathing in the sunlight that would instead stream through the large, open windows -- filling the room up with a deep sense of satisfaction. But you were not there!

I had vowed that I would find you. And my journey had started. My path sought you, my destination sought you, even the vestigial past that I carried sought you. I sought you in happiness, I sought you in pain. I sought you in loss, I sought you in gain. And then, at last, I managed to track you down! And so I was there, standing at your doorstep now, after all that.



And this time when the door opened, I finally saw you after all these years. I found you smiling. I found you quiet. As though you wondered whether I deserved your hug still. As though you wanted to verify whether I have born enough desperation in your search.

You were looking at my eyes. They bore pain. Elation.

--"Got the note?"

"Yeah!", I have been carrying that paper all along, "It's one word. I failed to understand! I was looking for you. Halfway across the world!"

--"Come in..."




Maaya held my hand. She took me to a room. And I still couldn't find roses around me! Still no scents wafting in the air! And windows were still closed. Rather, I found the room having a bed. And a mirror. Only. There was light in the room. Dim. But enough to see ourselves.

Maaya let me sit on the bed. It had a white cloth on it covering it up from all the sides. With no extra pillows or blankets.

--"So, did you fail to understand?"

"Yes!", I looked at her.

And I found her all the more beautiful. The black of her hair, the black of her eyeballs were deep. Thick and mysterious. Her skin radiated a silver glow. She wore a white lace dress, softly yet tightly tied to her body and she radiated an aura, whose deeper levels, I wondered whether I'd ever be able to fathom!

Her tone was naive. Yet sharp. "You look terrible!", she was looking at my reflection on the mirror, "You have dust on your hair!"

"Yes", I said.

--"And your clothes are all shabby and torn!"

"Yes".

--"And after all that do you still fail to interpret that word?"

She turned her head. She was looking at me.

I found her undressing. She untied the knots and the gown fell on the floor.

She didn't touch me. Neither did she come any closer. But in that light, I was able to see her unhindered. All.

Her eyes smiled at me.

"I was always like this, wasn't I?"

I kept quiet. I could see her back, her spine running all the way up to her shoulders, the side curves of her bosom, the projection of her nipples, the smoothness of her abdomen, her waist-line, her thighs... and all the silver that she reflected across the room.

"Come over!", she waved at me, like a mother calling her child, as if to give to him a lesson that she expected him to learn once and for all.

She helped me shed my attire. Bit by bit. They dropped on the floor. All dirty with dust as they were.

"Hold me!", she said.

I put my hands around her waist and she drew close.

I felt my skin touching hers, my warmth feeling hers. My chest pressed against her softness. My organ sensing the joining of her legs.

It was not lust. And I don't know whether it was love. I couldn't concentrate on what it was. Maybe, an innocent surrender to a teacher.

--"Look at the mirror!"

I turned my head.

I saw myself!

I couldn't see her!

"Where are you?", I said surprisingly, "I don't believe this mirror. It has to be warped!"

"No!", Maaya smiled. "The space-time you are in is warped! That has made you warped too. This warping makes you see yourself all the times irrespective of my presence or absence, my pain or pleasure! Had you stood out, as I do, you would have seen this ailing world in the mirror. Along with all its warping."

I couldn't grasp her words completely, but I felt my heart did. Because, suddenly, I found my eyes moistening. I felt pain. And this time it was greater. For, earlier in my journey, this pain had told me that I would never find Maaya! This time it said, even if I found her, we'd never find happiness together if I didn't change myself in someway!

Maybe she sensed this. And maybe to lessen my pain, to let me forget all of that for a moment, she planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Look at me!", she said, "Pick up your dirty clothes and get dressed". "You still have a long way to go", she whispered.

Maaya stood there. Singular. And free of all burdens. And she was seeing me getting dressed.

"Pity you!", she giggled, "You are masked again. Bound again. Ready to bear stupid responsibilities, again! And I was wondering if you would ever be giving me a violet rose on the day you propose..."
She was smiling away. As though she has caught my inability red-handed and was playfully enjoying the magical spell that she was making me move up and down to.

I hung my head. Maybe in shame. Maybe in guilt. Maybe in the inadequacy of standing in front of her. But, maybe, more in surrender!

"I never know how to get you a violet rose, Maaya!", I murmured.

--"You would never GET one!", she exclaimed.

"Then?" I said foolishly.

She laughed aloud merrily and vanished into thin air. Her dress that was resting on the floor disappeared too; suddenly leaving me with a deep sense of emptiness. I sensed a void this time, in my heart, along with the painful longing that I've bore in it all my life! And I wondered whether I'd have to start my journey all over again!




And then, suddenly, as if by a magical spell, I found the room fill up with moonlight. And violet roses. Thousands. They flashed all across me. The moonlight was dripping off their petals; their scent as rich as wine, as smooth as velvet -- spinning a web of magical, sweet trance all around.

I saw them. I inhaled them. But I failed to touch! I wondered why.

And then when I set out on my journey once again that day, I looked at the note, that I had been carrying all the way, one more time. It still spelled out the same word:  "C R E A T E !"





This post has been Edited and Republished here. This was originally published on: July 27, 2007, in my blog: Mirage Mosaic.

Being Green


It's hard to say whether I am happy with my life... because happy seems to be an insignificant word. Someone once said: "happiness is not a goal of life, it's rather a by-product". And when it does become like that you really don't feel it: it instead seeps into you and begins to transform your life in a very subtle way. You stop thinking on your life. That is you stop thinking on yourself.

Life offers you a lot to learn. To learn from people around you. What is meant by being human? At the bottom everyone is selfish, isn't it? Yes. Everyone is. But being human means you should understand and accept that everyone around you is as selfish as you are. That is how we have built a community, a society. We have learned to sacrifice for the sake of others' selfishness. And to expect others to sacrifice for the sake of ours. It's like building this reserve inside you from where you get the view of a bystander. It's important to see yourself from outside: from people's point of view. This builds your social self.

But isn't this where we tend to stop? Or isn't this what we tend to wish for? Being respected by the society is fulfilling. But respect is a symmetrical attribute. When you pay it you receive it. And paying respect is the more difficult of the two.

Learning never stops. Even for an old man. My gradfather, who died last year at the age of ninety-seven, learned new things everyday: he kept saying it. He astonished me. To him life itself was so fulfilling! I find his life complete from many angles; he never wished for more. He was happy -- both when he lived and when he died. And only when you know that others are growing more by paying you respect than you are by receiving it -- you learn this supreme truth: that respect generates something which is hollow in itself: the Ego. Because it doesn't change who you are. If it does then remember it's only adding a hollow part to your true, pious self which you must get rid of. This reminds me of Spiderman-3 and how Spderman got rid of his black coat. It's not easy! But you must do it! Because it's false and it's a pity to incorporate a false part in your self, keep aside the misery of carrying it all your life.

Life is astonishing. Because you are astonishing and all the souls around you are. The more you shed off your Ego the more you discover yourself: that is you do not remain all that what society calls you, that is you do not stop at being that identity. Once you conquer your identity you can see through many things in life: even yourself. You see that you are no one. You see that you are a child -- still learning. It makes you independent of anyone and anything in life. It makes you fearless. It makes you alone and you realize that everyone in this world is alone, and they always were -- right from the beginning. But you do not feel lonely! Because of that reserve of selfishness inside you that you had built where everyone deposits their own share including yourself! Let this reserve be in you because it will eventually make you understand how people are and why they can't be like anything else!

Humility is neither a goal nor a by-product. It's a necessity like food, shelter and clothing. If you have it you stay alive: that is you keep growing in life. Else we were all dead right from the beginning!

Are you Black or White?


Here's some suggestion to the guy who is making his debut in the State Zone. I can give you tips on how to start in the National and the International Matches some other day!   :P


1. Do substantial net-practice before you go to field. I mean on and off net: i.e. both practicals and homework. That is where you get to learn. Know your strengths.Give importance to hands. Make friends with your willow.

2. Talk to someone who knows the manager of the team. Else it's difficult to get in. There are people more skilled and richer than you standing in the line. How can you find that 'someone'? Keep your eyes open. How can you convince this person to tell the manager of you? Take him/ her to a beer-party and then climb up to gin. If it's a 'she' vodka would be fine.
Important:  Some people wouldn't listen to this and would like to try out on their own -- almost reducing to showing their skills near fields where live matches are going on for attracting attention. This can be dangerous. Do not let the police know that you are doing something illegal. Generally team managers will be more concerned about this than you.

3. The manager will give you a date and time to play. Don't tell him/ her that this is your debut. Just a suggestion. Venue is very important. Let the manager choose. You can pay for it later.

4. If you see lots of people in between and feel unsure and unsafe -- hold on to it. You are on track! Genuine team managers never reveal identity. 

5. Get only one mobile phone in your pocket and some money and nothing else. Security can rob the things from you and may never give them back! Don't pay more than 3k. Given that you are a common man, which most of us are, the return would suit you just fine. More if you are making your debut. Also don't make it a deal if the manager starts auctioning below 5k. It can just be unsafe with broken rules! You can reduce 5k down to 3k with bargaining if you are persistant. If you don't have experience try your hand first at the annual sari sale (go with your mom and watch closely how she does it).

6. Important if you are a debutant:  Try not to have heavy food before start of match. And never have alcohol.

7. Be patient. They are never on time. More if the traffic police is nearby. Keep your eyes open and keep communicating through phone. Don't be nervous if the manager doesn't take your call a couple of times. And most importantly, don't run away.     

8. After your team member(s) arrive(s) follow instructions on spot. Don't play hero. These are all safety instructions on how to avoid women, ogling eyes of people and police on your way. Once you are safely inside the field you can play hero.

9. Get rid of the money then and there -- whenever they first ask for it: you must trust. Make sure the manager is on the line while making the payment. So you have just your mobile phone and some odd 200 bucks to eat something and return home after the match is over.

10. If the team member(s) ask(s) for your mobile to make a call -- give it! Your number is just being registered to a friend's cell -- who'll allow more economical offers next time if the team likes you. Don't delete the number and save it as 'XXX'. Delete it later if you want and stop taking calls.  

11. Get spurious people out off the field as soon as possible. Lock the entrance.

12. Important:  Make sure you have got plenty of umbrellas. You must be clean even if the environment wants to contaminate you: both literally and figuratively. Your team member(s) will get umbrellas most of the time. But please confirm twice before you start. Unwanted rain can well be a spoilsport.

13. Don't talk much. Debutante are often nervous and end up chattering. Remember that time is running out. However, please start with a "hi". Then you are free to go ahead.

14. Both of you can avoid the toss if you have mutual understanding regarding who'll bowl and who'll bat. Try not to sit idle when you are being invited to start the match. It'll start on a bitter note then.

15. Understand the brain of your opponent. Remember you have already paid and so it's better to start respecting. Be generous with praise. Everyone feels good when they get appreciated for what they are and for what skills they have. Have sportsman spirit!

16. Important:  Remember it's a limited form of the game where you must abide by certain rules: no matter how involved you have already become. Use Only Your: Eyes, Hands, and Willow. Nothing Else. Hips and Feet may be used for further movement and locomotion purpose.

17. Follow the rules. Else: your stock earns a bad reputation in the market.

18. Important if you are a debutant:  Forget about the time limit set by your manager. Once you have paid the money, a new time limit is set by your opponent. You'll get a chance to bat at most thrice. For 3k, that's fare! Respect the decision when you have been declared out: you yourself know it! Don't fake. Go back to the pavilion like a good boy, dress up and come back and take stance again. However, if you don't follow the rules and piss your opponent off, the match might well be declared abandoned and it'll be abandoned well before time!

19. Upper cuts are allowed. Good hand-eye coordination can make things damn interesting. Make proper use of your fingers when taking a good grip. You can score 35% of your marks in the first few power-plays itself! Please cut your nails before you go. Tampering is not allowed!

20. Lower cuts can be interesting too: but it's better to be cautious. Forget your net-practice. It's only hands and eyes that you use here. Be very very careful. Only this part can make your stay in the pitch longer than one hour. Be artistic. In 3k you'll mostly have opponents who come to the field after proper bathing and shaving. So, don't worry! Watch out for the blind spot! Yorkers there can be devastating and passionate.

21. Sometimes let your opponent free to decide what to do next. You can't take all the decisions yourself! Learn to Trust (except for the rule-breaking). The experience will help you later in your domestic matches.

22. Finally you both have to come to terms with exactly when you are going to start the penalty strokes. Don't be disheartened if you see there's no goal-keeper and you are making goal easily once you are inside the penalty-box! It happens in this form of the game! Mostly, you'll get a wide goal-post. Accept, keep your comments to yourself and move on.

23. Important if you are a debutant:  There are several ways to score. You can have net practice with that too before you go. But no use if you are making your debut. Come back to the manual later. Follow the rules set by your opponent (as long as they comply with the rules mentioned above). Other striking poses require high skill and loads of practice! Proper knowledge on umbrellas can be used now. For a straight shot one umbrella is enough, while for a loft you may just need two. Don't ask me on the bi-cycle kick: I have limited knowledge on that! :P
Please don't make a fool of yourself. Be honest of what you are and what you are not. Else you'll face the consequences: and that may dampen your spirit.  

24. It'll wear you out fast. Don't be disheartened. Sport always comes with sweat and toil. Don't be sad if your opponent doesn't encourage you to play more. Quit the field when you are out the 3rd time. Be it after 1 hour or after 4 (obviously allowing for a few breaks in between)! Don't nag. You'll only be given a chance to bat more than 3 times if your opponent has enjoyed the game simultaneously alongside you: happens rarely. If you ever climb to this level and sustain there: and if you never feel the need to play domestic games of this professional level: you'll make a good player when you are playing back in your own yard. Most of common men, like us, choose that.

25.  Don't be elated if the opponent shakes hands after the match is over and says: "You were excellent, do you wanna take my personal number?" It means nothing but: "Gimme a call when you consider coming next -- I can arrange in less than 3k! I'll also get more myself if you are paying me directly and keeping our team manager out of this." Remember they are worried only about the money. In very rare cases: you'll find chits in your pocket after you have returned home with the personal number written on it. :P

26. Don't disrespect the venue after you have finished! Don't misbehave. Pay respect to the people who have been waiting outside the field. If you want you can also give them some tip. Say a "bye". And leave with a smile.

27. Important: While in the field, be very much prepared for sledging. It's a part and parcel of every game. If you are weak-hearted, don't go! Try not to sledge back. Common, man! You can just have a long, hard look and it can melt many a ice. In extreme cases, sledge back if you can't control your opponent's game in any way. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't!

28. Have a cigarette while returning home (or even two or more than that: smoke your heart out: this will bring you back to the real, domestic world). Unlike most people say, don't have cold drinks: soft or hard (unless it's 40 degrees hot outside). Try something hot and nutritious. Like a bowl of Chicken Soup, sitting inside an AC restaurant. It'll start rejuvenating your resources. 

29. Walk. It'll give you time to think on how to present everything if someone asks about it at home.



Footnote:        I loved listening to bhajans and I still like bhajans. You can also visit a temple, after your match, if you like the calm environment there. This form of the game is just another thing on plate. It doesn't guarantee hell and wouldn't increase your sin. At least it's a lesser sin than blowing up a petrol pump, working under some odd bin-Laden. We are neither Devil nor God. Neither Black nor White. We are all gray because we are all human beings! 
The palette obviously has more colors to it other than just black, white or gray! But I've heard that they surface only when you are in love. It's a different feeling all together and I can talk about it some other day.  :)     

Link to Video on Youtube

Here's something that you may find interesting:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB92dOQbZko

the song starts a bit late.. I have deliberately not chopped off the intro part while putting it on youtube.. since it shows many of my friends 'in action'... ;) :P ...the guy speaking for some brief period at the very beginning is Deep... three of my closest friends here in IISc after Raghav and Sanjeev....

hope you like it.. comments /criticism /etc are welcome...

To Do or Not To Do

It has been almost two years here in IISc, and I am yet to count the numerous good things that have happenned to me. Well, out of those, the two topmost things, without doubt, have been my reconnection with Physics since class 12 and me getting a chance to sing on stage once again after college. My days here in IISc have mainly been fraught with coming to the lab and visiting the music room from time to time.

I feel myself lucky to be a part of Rhythmica, the IISc Music Team. I have learned to sing the lower scales correctly, learned to play a few percussive-instruments, learned patience, teamwork, humility and, above all, smartness. However, I still have stage fear and out of the 3-4 stage performances I have given here in IISc, I like none! Guys like Sanjeev and Raghav keep on telling me that I need to improve my body-language on stage: it's not all about how you sound, but also about how you look! It's not about singing, it's about performing! Yes, yes. I know. I keep on harping these points to myself every time I go to stage. Last time I sang "Aao Na", I looked like a zombie -- standing like a statue in front of the mics: the only part of my body that was moving was my right foot (um... I was tapping my foot to keep the beat)! I saw the video. I dreamt a lot about posting it on Youtube the night before I sang the song, however it's needless to say that the dream crashed once the video got edited and arrived!

Imagine about asking a day off from lab to my advisor: "Sir, can I please take tomorrow off?" Even without asking 'why', he replies: "Sure!" I clarify: "It's because I have to attend to some extra-curricular committments!" (nice way to put it! :P) Advisor: "No problem, go ahead! (As long as I am happy with your work.. :P) you can even take 2 days off!" Once the conversation ends I ask myself: is it really that funny? I have enjoyed Physics more than anything else on campus ever since I came here and it's needless to say that I love labwork! However, sometimes, this Music Bug gets too hard to bear and it is then when I need a quick release! Hmm...

So I rehearse twice the last day and see that the song is coming out well! Good! Now to focus on my body! It just can't stand still this time in front of the mics! I decide to make some deliberate moves.. something explicitly to be decided, a priori, on topics such as: what do I do with my arms on stage? I must not keep them hanging! Shall I walk towards the guitarists and the drummer during the interludes? This concept is known as: 'Using the Stage' and many follow it. Most importantly, what should I do with my eyes? I mostly sing with closed eyes, but I have received open criticism about this... Directly looking at the audience and singing is tough for me (I don't know why... :| ...)! Suggestions? Most of my mates told me to do the simplest thing... feel the words as I sing.. to forget there is an audience scrutinizing (and hopefully criticizing) my every move... To sing it as though I am singing it for myself only... Hm.. Easier said than done, anyways, I decided I will hold the mic this time with both hands.. that takes care of my upper limbs; as far as the lower ones are concerned, I rejected the idea of roaming around on stage... I will rather stand still and sing (and jump a bit during the "high"s just to make sure it doesn't look monotonous), facing the feet of the front-row audience (that avoids any risk of eye-contact)... Done. Last wish: "I hope my advisor is not among the audience!"

The song came out well.. Raghav said it came out better than "Bulla Ki Jaana".. both song-wise and performance-wise.. I was so happy! Aha! :)


Next morning I come to the department. Two seniors approach me. "Hey, listen!" They were quite senior to me, having almost completed their PhD degrees! "What was the song you sang yesterday?" I mumbled the song name. "Why did you sing it that way? Hands on mics, shaking your head from time to time, ...as if you were a rockstar!??" Um.... Nothing to say! I kept mumb. "Listen kid, in future, try and avoid all these pranks on stage... you go there and sing gracefully and come back.. That's it.." So here was something I coudn't resist knowing more about. It's, after all, for the audience only I had decided to change myself! I explained to them the mental trauma that I underwent before getting on stage: "I didn't want them to call me a zombie again!" "Zombie or not-zombie, it doesn't matter!" the senior said, "What matters is you are from Physics Department! You must have a minimum dignity when you stand on stage... Pathetic!"



Hello! Now where does that leave me?  :| ...........................

To Be or Not To Be

"Do you know how to concentrate?" she asked me. I kept quiet. "I think you love to believe that you are concentrating!" "Is it my pride?" I asked her. "I don't know what it is. But I can tell you something!" she said, "One. You can do it. Much easily unlike others. Two. You don't do it." "Why do you think I dont? Or do you think I can?" I asked. "That is your problem!" she said, "While you do it you never think you can't. You are always overconfident. The consequence of which is you spoil it completely. You think you are concentrating. And you want others who watch you to believe just that. You take it casually. Later once you become sure you have fucked it up you come and ask for sympathy! I won't say it is because of your pride. Because that would be foolish. Pride happens after your first success and affects your second performance. You get affected each time. I am not also sure whether it is your overconfidence! That happens to those who overestimate their calibre. But you underperform! I think I know what could it be. You are casual! Just!" I didn't know what to say. After a long pause I managed to mumble "I am always alert! At least I think so." "Then you do it deliberately!" she said, "Don't frustrate me! I have said what I had to say. You know it well! You know what goes on inside you. I am poor at mathematics. So I fail to find any other reason behind it."

Our discussion ended like that. She left angrily. I could make out why she was angry. Because she couldn't convince me something that she wanted me to learn, know and remember and she couldn't be sure that I wouldn't end up doing the same thing in my next chance. She loved to see me perform. She believed in my ability.

At the back of my mind I knew what was wrong. I knew it precisely because I know myself. She was close when she said I did it deliberately. But it was not exactly that! I couldn't explain it to her. Because it can't be explained. First because no one would believe it. Secondly because it's outside the arena of logic. It can't be argued upon. The reason was I get divided into two different individuals each time during the performance. One of them tries to perform. Another one tries not to. Often the second one wins. This tug-of-war ends up dissipating much energy which also makes me weak!

I often wanted to tell her that I didn't love doing it. That was the reason. But I couldn't. She would be hurt if she knew that! She wanted me to deliver because she believed I had talent! However, owing to some very odd kind of a combination with which I had come, I always ended up having talent in something that I never loved to do.

Moments of Nothingness

Coming home is a great feeling! Specially when you have been out for a long time and haven’t met all those with whom you have grown up. Childhood is special. Although this realization comes once it ends! It’s desirable to loose oneself in the present when one is young. Time never leaves you alone to stand still and enjoy your moments forever.

I was thinking of writing something new as, finally, after a long gap of about a year, I have finally got some time for myself! Although funny and incomplete ideas keep coming I realize it’s better to leave them alone for the time being for aging, and hence, unfortunately, am left with no plot that can be put up as a story in a blog (barring one short story that I am going to put up in Symmetry shortly). The last year has been hectic. My dreams and ambition have taken me to a place where I was a complete misfit! I tried and tried and after all this time have made nominal progress, though, have managed to adapt to the place finally. For the whole of last year I had to forget all about myself, my moods and desires, and solely concentrate on work -- a lifestyle which was, in no way, familiar to me! Never before in my life have I worked this hard. And never before did I get so less results out. However, it is a refreshing break now that I am here. Although, I also carry the feeling of stopping suddenly. It appears as if the world has continued to speed past again leaving me immersed in my childhood dreams.

The time I spent here once now seems strange! I have always disliked my childhood. It was, from no angle, what I wanted to start my life with. But today, coming back, I don’t feel that desperate or frustrated anymore! I remember all sorts of things. Breaking window panes while playing cricket, cramming the nights before school exams, narrating my written pieces to my dad and grand-dad, smoking my first cigarrette… Within each of these memories I also carried the wounds of self-hatred. I wanted to run away. I wanted to be free. I knew I was not living a proper life and I prayed that my lifestyle, on which I otherwise had no control, wouldn’t affect what I wanted to become in future. I knew I wronged each day. And I was so sure that once I start my new life, those days of childhood would remain as the worst days of my life. Today I am free. And today I have come home. I realize why those days were and will be the most beautiful days of my life. I had somehow spent those days doing nothing! I don’t know if I should repent! Today, the very realization of the fact that I had once spent my time doing nothing gets me thinking. Is such a thing possible at all?

I lived a hundred lives. To my parents I was a decent student always trying to improve on his exam marks. They loved me. To my mates with whom I played cricket, I used to be an under-hand leg-spinner who could bat a bit. I often ended up opening the innings. To my uncle I was a chess player, often a card player who could also gamble... He loved to play bridge an 29 and I often partnered him. Many loved to hear me singing. And Satadal Sir believed I had a real chance to become a painter! Not to mention that I started writing stories at a very early age. (And god knows what I am doing now with Physics!) In short I was a jack-of-all-trades. I never made out what I would grow up as. In fact I liked every thing! Unlike many, I never had fights. Very few disagreements either. People in the neighborhood loved me. And I enjoyed it. Today, now that I have been restricted to one or two arenas in life – now that I have started to work – I feel to have died in many zones in which I once lived! I have always been unable to decide which remains more painful: these days of having a direction but missing out on so many other things, or those days of living so many lives simultaneously and lacking a proper direction.

Many things have changed back here. Some of my friends have gone distant. They have grown a separate identity just like me! My grand-dad is older and leaner. My father has become quieter. The uncle with whom I used to play cards has married and has concentrated more on his business. As soon as I came home, I saw a twinkle in each of their eyes. They were so happy to see me! It gave me satisfaction. It’s a pleasure to know that there remain some who go on loving you no matter wherever you remain. They have aged and I have grown up too, but the bonds that once bound us still remain – unmodified with the interference of time. And there are some things that haven’t changed at all! My room remains just the same! The same sky I get to see out of my window, the same raindrops wet my bed when it rains today. The posters of my favorite cricketers are still there on my wall. The terrace is just the same! The orange sunrise that could be seen from it remains just the same!

Am I the same person? My attitude and lifestyle have changed significantly. My reactions have become more controlled. My words – more formal. I have learned to become socially correct. And I feel like having a separate life beyond all this. The life back at Bangalore, that makes me me! I don’t feel to restart the journey that I have left incomplete here one year back. I feel like continuing the one that I have started last year! I don’t feel those moments of nothingness anymore. Somehow those restless hours of hollow dreaming seems to be childish and meaningless now. Since I have come here, I have watched over ten movies. To kill time…

I don’t know if my disinterest or inability to relive those lazy moments of nothingness makes a difference to me! And I am still to find out whether this ignorance makes me happy or sad!

The Death of Love


Dreams are man-made. So are longings and expectations. Human heart is odd. Because it never stops expecting. That is how it loves. That is why it wants love. Love is nothing but a bond. And all bonds are hypo critic. As deformable as the water surface. Neither the two become one. Nor they stay separate! Still bonds form. Quite painfully. And in a funny way. And when they form they take away a lot of energy so as to subdue the state of both to a configuration supporting lesser vitality and higher satisfaction. Why this happens is a mystery! Or may be it's not. Bonds form to make individuals extract satisfaction. Assurance.
Love ends with the realization that the expectation of that assurance was false. And it is then the mind can come out and the heart can rest.

Sensitivity, when surrendered, might get accepted leading to the formation of a bond. Or it might get rejected – increasing the longing in the process. Sometimes it comes back to the owner; unchanged in form – without the amplification through acceptance or scratches of rejection. And sometimes it doesn't come back!
It neither gets accepted, nor rejected. It goes unnoticed by most. Un-understood by many. And unfelt by some. The soul of it wanders about forever. Wafting all across the span of this universe. Unexploited; untouched.
It's like trying to form a bond but realizing that it would never be possible! There is no sadness! Just a blank space in the scrabble of letters within the book of love that is written by many.

Society is strange! Because it's as hypo critic as a bond itself is. It expects from others as much as it expects from itself. When others can see but not feel, and understand that they can see but not feel, what mostly results is sympathy, not love. It is here where it goes hypo critic. It never accepts sympathy. But it always has the thing to offer. Smart people don't offer sympathy. But do they love?

Life is short. And all goals are without any meaning. Rivers come back to their genesis – once they empty into the ocean – through rain, completing the full circle. What is to be enjoyed and learned from is the journey and not the destination! Do bonds stop or deviate a person from extracting lessons from this journey?

Love can't be forced. If a person has expectations in his heart he is bound to love. It is because extracting lessons from a bond itself is, at times, equally enjoyable as learning from a lone journey. It's shorter. And more effective. But at the end of everything what count are the lessons. Neither the journey, nor the bonds.
To kill one's sensitivity fully is inhuman and perhaps not morally possible. But if, with the desire of forming a bond, one lifts off the bar to his sensitivity so that, pushing out of the cage of the heart and escaping in this free world, it spreads across air and wafts about in all dimensions – without getting understood, felt or touched... what results, more often, is a bond with oneself! Lessons are then learned via the medium of meditation.

It's not about becoming a narcissist. It's all about becoming passive. When the river gets nourished by raindrops off its own water it becomes perennial and independent. Eternal. Infinity contains itself in a circle. In the sense that one can trace it over and over again without feeling the need to come out. All circles bear the Infinite regardless of their sizes. This marks that they are all equal and one.
Nirvana might result out of love. But it can also be attained through the death of love. Hypocrisy must be avoided at any cost. The Infinite doesn't thrive in a self that is vitiated off its own fragrance!

Singing You, Maaya

Often when I sit alone in the dark, I try and hum a song. Being blank in my mind and silent at heart, I find that the only option the starlit night leaves me with for expressing myself to myself. Crickets chirp and the night breeze whistles past my ear. And the song doesn’t come out! Tunes overlap and words get disarrayed. The more I concentrate the more lost I become! The amateur tunes emanate – sometimes from my ribs – and waft through the air… they waft away and away from me in all dimensions of space. As though they are carrying away parts of myself that will never be coming back!

Life and death – both – stimulate me. And the channel between the two, which I often get trapped in, excites me as well! I feel like being all lost among the twists of Space and the hidden pockets of Time! Identity is also relative. I happen to be so insignificant! This world is just but another planet in this entire reign of stars and my inability is so petty! The Universe is huge. And has voids so great in it that something once leaving you might never return – even if you run after it all your life. You go on chasing and it goes on running away. And one day when you die and stop running you see it still running away! That is how I always lose myself when I sing. My heart goes on pumping new rhythms everyday. The pulsating rhythms generate tunes of several frequencies. It never tires. Just like the songs that never tire running away!

It’s not that I don’t know how to smile and live! But I find myself quite unworthy of it. This is no sadism. Neither masochism. This is an attempt to see what is there to be seen: The Truth! This is no indifference. Neither is it repentance. Just acceptance. The night air becomes a thick blanket, wrapping me all up and absorbing gently what I have to offer: my songs! The sky, the air, the earth – whose damp scent could be got from a distance after a late night drizzle – gives me company. I don’t find them sympathizing! Nor empathizing. They just welcome my presence silently. Drops of silence whisper secrets, the codes that have made up this Matrix! The feeling is great! As if to be a part of the elite league that drives this Universe. I sing! And the stillborn tunes diffuse into the surroundings and reach the limits of the night sky – where stars reside, where fairies weave magic into stardust! Sometimes to the moon! And it appears they have carried me with them. I feel the sparkles! But then I suddenly realize it’s all a dream I am dreaming; and that, in reality, I am in my room, sitting by the side of the window, all lonely, crying… and trying to sing the song!

I feel You inside me and myself inside that You again. And the recurring equation tunnels fathoms in my heart, to stretch to infinity, as I try and look deeper into myself! I see ourselves getting smaller and smaller. Diminishing in intensity… perhaps to be reduced to a speck before we could get assimilated into Nature forever! Because we are always like this together, I don’t feel the tears I cry! The tunes surround me. Just as they become a part of me. And then, when they go away, it feels that I have become a part of them – still lingering at my present, mortal existence…

I have always wished to be a star! So that I can sing afresh. So that I can sing correctly! I want to be the song itself! So that I can proclaim the power to sing myself! And thus… to sing You, Maaya! I want to sing You, Maaya! That’s what I have always wanted to. And that’s what I have always done! At least in my dreams…