Random thoughts

I am not convinced. About some decisions I have taken. They seem to have been taken by others and imposed upon me. I want to break out of the shackles binding me and scream out, yes there's a voice that's hidden within me. It's not the voice of somebody cracking arbitrary, meaningless jokes or intelligent comments. It's someone who has had a dream, who strangled that dream and now is afraid to dream again. I am scared to move out of this doldrum. If I take a step backward, which is where I want to go, I have to break bonds with so many things that have held me, nurtured me and nourished me since childhood. If I take a step forward, I would have lost the right to dream forever. Not because I have woken up from this one, but because I still don't know why I have woken up from this one.

There is a candle burning in a corner of the room, but the last person to go out left the window open. A strong wind is trying to blow out the flickering flame. Will the wind burn out the light? Or will the flame burst forth and set the whole room ablaze, so that the smoke can reach out to the heavens with renewed faith?

Sabse khatarnak hai sapno ka mar jana. Par sapne dekh kar fayda hi kya hai, jab unhe sach karne ka himmat hi na ho.

Pujo shuru

Shubho Mahashashti to all. Had phuchka and egg roll at CR Park. :)

Twit-ter Twit-ter

What is with the journos? Why can't we let a man tweet in peace? There's a ridiculous report in an agency saying Shashi Tharoor is complaining about his workload. There are a number of people following the junior minister for external affairs and most of them may be journalists waiting like vultures to prey on his words.
First the cattle class and now this. Why are we going overboard about his tweets? He has a right to his opinion like everyone else doesn't he?
Guaranteed that he must exercise restraint while replying to comments such as the 'cattle class' remark, but all the criticism surrounding that can also be taken with a pinch of salt.
So much for the holy cows all around us. There are politicians out there doing much worse and here we are following his tweet with an eye for a blooper.
Is it really that big a crime or even that newsworthy if a minister says he has a 'ridiculously full schedule'? At least one thing is clear, a lot of twits, unlike Tharoor, have a lot of time on their hands — to make news out of every twitter.

Do dreams really reflect what you are yearning for? Or is it just because I've been reading about Carl Jung that I've been consciously dreaming what I think I should be yearning for?

Else it would be difficult to explain a series of dreams in one single night where I have made up with people I'm having a strained relationship right now. Maybe it's just a sign of how complicated I have made my life.

Like one says Love Happens, I can't really say complications happen, no? Am sure there's some amount of agency in love as well as complications in life. We are ultimately responsible for our own joys and sorrows.

Why then is it taking me so much time to get out of this? And why don't I see a way out? Am I not looking in the right direction or am I not looking with the right attitude? Either way, I need more effort to soothe the hairs I have ruffled. Get to work with right spirit.

Faith

Hola Mohalla, 2008

Pushkar, 2008

Eid at Jama Masjid, 2009

Monday, September 21, 2009. Eid Mubarak. Jama Masjid.

Feeling the power of thousands of people praying together is a humbling experience. Being a part of the crowd of devotees, watching them stand, sit, bow and rise as one sends a thrill down the spine. It triggers a streak of faith among atheists, togetherness among strangers and solace in a crowd.

Oblivious to shutterbugs, rolling cameras and pesky journalists, with ears trained only to hear the holy words booming from the microphone, the devout visit the Jama Masjid to celebrate Eid.

Despite being warned about 'selfish' crowds that would steamroll those ahead of them, I found the Jama Masjid fairly organised. Yes, there were crowds. But nothing unmanageable. Awe-inspiring but definitely nothing intimidating.

This was different from the crowds I encountered at Pushkar during the camel fair last year and the sea of turbans at Hola Mohalla/Anantpursahib last Holi.

Don't ask me what was different. I'm still thinking about it. At Pushkar, the crowds were channelised through narrow lanes and bylanes, jostling cattle, beggars and more. The roads were dirty for the most part. But there was a sense of chaos. Yes, that was absent at Jama Masjid today.

At Hola Mohalla, though it was not chaos, the crowd was overbearing. Just the sight of people wherever you turned your eyes was exhausting.

Maybe the space at mosque made all the difference. But whatever it was, it has got me hooked just the way Pushkar enticed me to return. I hope to go back to Jama Masjid for Eid next year, too.

Till then, may the power of faith keep us going through life. Ameen

A swim, a step and a lesson

What's age got to do with doing what you love? Nothing, probably.

At least two people I have seen have inspired me to just give life your best shot and not bother about results. Both are in their late seventies and move about with the aid of walking sticks. They look like any other ageing people, who have lived their life and are now ready for the final journey. But something makes them different.

I saw one of them participating at a Shiamak Davar Institute of Performing Arts summer funk event. He was dancing with youngsters at least one third his age. His agility, spirit and moves out-shadowed those who performed that day. The flourish with which he took a bow with the other dancers in his group just sent the message home. When you are doing what you love, that's what matters most. The rest will fall in place. And mind you, he didn't touch his walking stick till he came up on stage to be introduced to the audience.

And the other person, I saw today at the pool. He was quite overweight. But that did not interfere with his strokes. He just swam with ease and pleasure. When I saw him leave the pool premises leaning on his walking stick, I couldn't help but decide that I would not give up till I reached my target of one kilometre today.

They probably will never know they have inspired somebody so much, but that only adds to the charm of what they do. For they do it for themselves.

I hope I can learn and imbibe this spirit of living life to the fullest, on my terms and living by example. My salute to both of them.

The Power of One

Where there's a will, I guess a way finds itself. After an attempt to swim one km and falling shot by 400 metres on Thursday, it was a momentous pleasure to have achieved my target today... Of course, it helped that the body behaved by not cramping my dreams. Now, it will be a time-bound target. From one km in 65 minutes to faster and faster and faster ever more.

Pushing the limits, and pushing myself to the limits. May the spirit triumph.

Train to austerity derailed?

Is the Congress taking the country for an 'Austerity' ride? Pranab Mukherjee's concerns about the economy may be well-placed, and his suggestions at austere measures may stem from genuine concerns about the country's treasure chest But isn't the party and the media going overboard with the whole campaign?

One wonders if all the hullabulloo about austerity is actually proving quite costly for those involved... The casualties are extending far and wide.

Austerity, ironically, comes at a price. Sometimes, you may end up spending less, while dealing a blow to others around you. At least Rahul Gandhi's train ride from Delhi to Amritsar on a Shatabdi will leave the Indian Railways thinking twice about hosting such elite guests in future.

When Rahul and his PR managers were planning his 'track' record, they may have made room for press photographers taking shots of him, but not arbitrary mischiefmongers taking potshots at him. And least of all, would they have given them credit for such good aim that broke windows of the air/conditioned train.

Now, the railways is stuck with a criticism of the security it provides to passengers, a bill for a broken window pane and some unasked-for publicity.

Some passengers who travelled on the 'un/fortunate' Shatabdi may be gushing at having been able to shake hands with Congress's Prince Charming, but many others may have just been put off by the delay caused by increased security checks, the surge of security personnel at an always crowded public place and so on and so forth.

The Congress may or may not have given much weight to Rashtriya Janata Dal president and Lok Sabha chief wit's comments on a return to the Gandhian way of travel -- and no, here we are not talking about the Gandhis of 10 Janpath, but about travelling general like the Mahatma. One just hopes the party gets over its need to express solidarity with the masses -- or as Shashi Tharoor may put it, the cattle classes -- in this way.

In fact, it may just benefit by practising these measure and not talking about them too much.

May be everyone will take more kindly to the austerity drive if it is not so in-your-face and overhyped. May be this will also fulfill some security requirements of the SPG, which has been having a tough time with Rahul's 'public display of affection' -- expressed sometimes by travelling in the Metro and at others by breaking security cordons to pet a crying child, or simply by taking the Shatabdi.

After all, if you have a price to pay for fame, you also pay the price for austerity instead of making the taxpayer pay for it. And limited publicity to the austerity drive, though it seems like PR harakiri at the outset, may go a longer way in helping the Congress connect with the common man and the common good.

YSR and after

Scenes of outpourings of grief after the death of Andhra Pradesh chief minister Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy (YSR) were indeed moving. Men, women, children, of every age and hue lined up in thousands to be part of his funeral procession. People committed suicide, said some newspapers. Many others died of shock. An overwhelming personality YSR must have been to have commanded so much power even in death and after. But the politicisation of grief is another genre altogether.

The Andhra home minister Sabita Indra Reddy went to pay her respects to YSR at the spot where his chopper crashed about a fortnight after his September 2 death. The gritty lady trekked four hours into the dense Nallamala forest to reach the crash site. She apparently went there, paid floral tributes to a portrait of YSR that was especially ferried there and shed copious tears in his memory. To keep her company were some hapless security personnel and government officials.

I seriously wonder what these people think when they do something as unnecessary and avoidable as this. I mean, if she really felt so strongly about going to the site of the accident, she should have just taken off on her own. Or better still, have convinced herself that YSR's spirit would be easily accessible in Hyderabad as in the hillock in Rudrakonda.

What a waste of resources, time, personnel and energy to escort her there, bear testimony to her tearful farewell to her leader and bring her back safely through the forests that are famous Naxal strongholds. Really!!

Such outpourings of grief at the cost of public servants and public funds is a pity.

Better than this seems building temples to honour him!

Villagers in several districts of Andhra Pradesh have come forward to donate money and build temples to worship YSR. Not a surprise, seeing that this is a country where we deify even the living -- after all Amitabh Bachchan and Rajnikanth have temples to their credits.

But the most ridiculous bit of sycophancy was to follow. A Tirupati Tirumala Devasthanam board member said, for Andhra, there is no God other than YSR.

Am not disputing the devotion the people of the state may have for YSR Nor am I criticisng their hero-worship. But I'd like to know what all the millions who travel miles to pray to Lord Venkateswara at Tirupati every year -- including the Ambanis and Bachchans of this world -- have to say to this TTD trust board member's comment!

May YSR's soul rest in peace, unaffected by and indifferent to all the tamasha being carried out in his name.

Amen