Circa then untill now

Not a long while When I used to sit there laughing;

Feeling summer's warm loo & dusty chips off the pave

Drawing winter's warmth from last lit lantern's wick

Brushin dragonflies touchin my soarin sweaty dreams.

Not a short while ago when I sat here trying to laugh

Feeling the chill of very cold breeze I flew off with

Pegged to a wooden stool, Gorki in my thoughts beneath

With a cappuchino in my hands,once in a while,I smile.

Colors

Red, blue, green, azure, indigo, eternal black and all encompassing - white. Each of these have a story of their own to tell. These are not dead colors. They live and breathe. Like one of our own. They just dont paint this world and the world beyond. They paint our emotions, give a tint to what already exists within realms and are true manifestations of everything within and without.

Once upon a time, when very first apple was eaten in garden of bliss, the eater got thrown out. He landed up at someplace which was all white. All over the horizon, as far as the vision took thoughts to, it was all colorlessly white. That was when it all began. Walking aimlessly on these snowed terrains, he met pink. Love blossomed. White was about to loose its identity, its virginity. It got sprayed with pink and the terrain gained many more hues. Time elapsed. Many of these shades were still emerging. White was happy. It was no longer alone in this big world. It now had companions. Blue was there to help quench all the desires. Blue was swift, shapeless and supportive. They made a good match. Made for each other. They knew their limitations. White would not venture in blue's territory and blue, like a real child, would come across and play at the feet of white.

Theirs was not the world to keep. As world grew and as more inhabited it, many more shades shaped up. With a desire for white and lust for pink, they started looking for a tool. Lurking in a corner, gaining shape was black. It always existed. It was gaining life now. It needed a reason to come out of hibernation. It started finding some. With increasing species, it had ample. Aided by green and powered by red it began its long march. Green would always make it suspicious. Giving it a reason to disturb the tranquil white. Pepped up by green, red would be black's brother in arm. Black would design and red would strike. More sprays, more betrayals, more anger, more seething, more evil. That was the hallmark of red. Red and black marched on. Stamping the world of white and blue. Pink would watch helplessly and indigo could not do any thing. Once in a while when black would rest, yellow would sprout. Giving an illusion that not all was over. Harmony still existed. Orange will help yellow set up bases and it would try to put life back into all that was almost burnt by seeth of red and march of black. But all that would never live long. Black would rise up again. Like a magic monster. And yellow, orange, pink- each one of these would become groundless.

This was the rule of game. Play of colors. Not as we know it and think it is. But as it actually is. Since the first descent and the first march. Eternal black against all encompassing white. Black was fiery and powerful, aided by green and dead red. White was assimilating and tolerant. All other colors - violet, indigo, blue, orange, pink -would walk arm in arm and merge into white. Giving White a reason to run against crusading march of black and its allies.

The march of black continues till date. Overriding and powerful. A hint of restoration comes up once in a while. With white and its friends gaining ground. But not long enough. Black rises up again and all gets lost.

Even today, White is patiently waiting. Enveloping and protecting so many other colors. Hoping that someday it would put an end to the march of black.

The Big Issue

'You wont find any beggars there!', quipped someone even while I was collecting my boarding pass at Mumbai airport for a Sydney outbound. Over the time I forgot what that person said to me.Untill one fateful day. Untill one flicker of a moment. A true moment of revelation. I will try leading you on to what it led me to. That was a fine monday morning. Clear and azure winter sky. No drizzles, no hair ruffles. While crossing over Darling harbour bridge I was cheked in my stride. By a man who would not be more than 35 years.



" Excuse me brother! Would you want a copy of The Big Issue? This comes free to you and you get a further subscription discount."
I was getting late for my work and politely refused him. He started looking out for someone else and I carried on.



Just other day, while out on my lunch, I met this guy. His name is Sky. Actually Yun Wong. Also known as Sky. A wonderful violin player, I have seen him playing at Martin Place on many afternoons. He plays and people drop coins in his case. I am sure he makes atleast 20 bucks a day. There are others. These two I had a chance to talk to and I know their names. Others are just nameless faces to me. One school guy playing flute, another homeless shoeshine man, a group of hip hop artists trying to collect money for an LA trip and on and on and on. List is endless. And I see them everyday. Same place, same time, doing the same thing. Unaffected by the changing world around them.



Back to what we were talking about. So, one weekend when I was cleaning my room I saw my boarding pass. The sight of it brought on the moment. You wont find any beggars there. It echoed through my senses. And reality struck. How do we define beggars? Who are they? Non entities or existing? Faceless or clueless? Real or dream? I could not find a suitable answer. Because untill today even I knew the wrong meaning of this word. Actually, they are none. They dont exist. We have taken great pains to conjure up this word and its meaning. And through generations it has found examples amongst us. It is just a vent to one of our inferior sides. We want to be superior and placed higher. We want to be better than the best. Looks like we have taken to our heart Darwin's 'Survival of the fittest'. We all need some help, some support or some anchor in our lives. Be it in any form. But most of us dont get obvious. Yet there are a few who are visible to our naked eyes. Because they are not fittest. They are not privileged. Either by their birth, abilities, opportunities or luck. So they come out in open. To ask others for a helping hand. We chose to call them beggars. Most of us dont ask for help because we can survive without being obvious. Some cant. And we draw advantage of our status. A needless pleasure and some self reclaim. We call them beggars, throw alms and get going.



I dont know what this means. I am also clueless. But one thing I know. We are in a symbiotic existence. We need this system and system needs us. Being needy is no shame and being advantaged is no achievement. There is a bigger issue here. The man with copies of Big Issue in his hands is no issue at all. This idea of self deceit is an issue. The complacency, that we are self suffcient, is an issue. Are we capable of deceiving this feeling of self deceit? We need to be equal givers and equal beggars. 'Can we do it?' is the issue.

Rip and Rap

Rip and Rap were born on same date in different parts of the same town. Rip on a rag inside a rain washed clay cottage and Rap was wrapped in a muslin within a sanitation zone.I dont know either of them. Nor do they know each other. But they have so many things in common which always amazes me. When Rip opened his eyes for the first time, he could smell raw tar still being cooked for laying fresh roads. Rap also had a fragrance around him. Jasmine on the boiling water and an ever running temperature controlled cabin. That would never let the jasmine's smell die. Not that smell around Rip died. In fact it got stronger as more roads were laid. They both had their share of fragrance. Rip's strengthened by an ever increasing need for growth and Rap's strengthened by an ever increasing desire for perfection and luxury.

They both grew up. In their own ways but in the same town. Rip went to a school so did Rap to another. Rip used a notebook which Rap's father had donated to the govt. school he went to. Then came the moment of realisation for both of them. Accidentally, that too was the same day. Both of them wanted to be and wanted to become. To achieve and be big. They had this never ending desire that started culminating into a resolve. which they has inherited from their past. Both of them longed to get rid of that label. And they started working hard towards achieving their own goals. Did i tell you their goals? What they dreamt of? Rip dreamt of a big mansion, bigger bank balance and much better life. He wanted to be larger than the life itself. He never wanted to smell that burning tar again when he slept. Rap thought of giving it back to the humanity. To become and elixir that will take away all pains of this world. He was willing to bear all the hardship that came in his way. But he was determined to alleviate those he thought were not so privileged as he had been.

The day came. Their redemption. It all happened again on the same day. Rip was now what he had always wanted to be. He had a big house right adjacent to Rap's father. It smelled of Jasmine when his wife delivered a baby boy. Rap had also done it. He worked for some humanities mission in a far off place. He did not have proper food to eat and proper place to sleep in. It was a cramped clay house with smell of tar burnt in african sun. But he was happy. He was what he wanted to be.Nothing had changed through out their evolution. There still was one Rip and there still was one Rap in this big world.

Across the Sea

Hi, Back after a long time. I am. I will keep it really short. Untill next one when i start going my original way. Long and never ending. It has been six days since I arrived in Sydney. A whirlwind tour of physical presence, emotions, feelings, relations and what not. Thankfully I met quiet a nice bunch of people at work. They know who they are. When you leave a place where you have been anchored to, for past all the years of life, that is a sea change. Precisely what happened to me on 6th of june 2007. And today, on 15th I am feeling at home. Really. A touchodwn at the Sydney airport, Walk along the Pyrmont bridge overlooking Sydney Towers, number one Martin Place, a long one to Newcastle, Y on the Hyde Park. The list is endless. What I mean is, all this has been amazing. Bringing me slowly and smoothly into the system and putting me right where I would have thought myself to be in. It is 7 PM. Everyone is gone. 10 minutes and after I finish reading one of the report, even I will be. All I know is, it has been a nice beginning. Sydney, kind of drwas you in and does not let you go off. it is such an easy city on you. Not burdened by the weight of expectations and also not lost in an identity crisis. A rare feat to find in a city of burgeoning aspirations and one which is tipped to be second best to none. Untill next time mate.

Serious Players & Silent Spectators

The match was about to begin. A critical one for all the billion plus players and some eleven odd spectators. Though spectators were confined to the bounds of playground, players were strayed all over the world. They had been preparing for this eagerly awaited game for long. And these were people of all kind, creed, ethnicity and origin. Fully devoted to the game. This devotion only to be exceeded by their interests in the game's speculated outcome or its controversial past.

They were all getting ready for the game. In one silent coerner of his house, one of these billion plus palyers had consoles of telephone lines ranked up. Evidently he needed to keep in touch with others for minute by minute account. Then there was this one who called himself President of The Board. He was busy talking to the journalists. Very confidently analysing each and everybody's weaknesses and strengths. How one was good at catching the ball and other at staying indefinitley at the crease. Notwithstanding his clueless background and absolute ignorance, he thought he was the best thing to have ever happened to the game. All the past presidents also thought the same. Till they were sent packing by a dissenting panel of voters.

Then there was this lady. She used to work in daily soaps before realising her true calling one fine day. Sorry! my bad here. It was not she who realised her true calling. It was a TV Channel which realised it and then made her also realise the same. The channel had been awarded the contract of live coverage of the game. Thy needed to add some element of glamour.

The hunt began. Finally zeroing in on this lady. She did qualify to be an expert of the game.Did she? Why not! She could spell some the palyers' names. And found some of them handsome too. Her dressing sense was also amazing. Deep neck lines, gelled and perfectly streaked hair, a fevicol smile on the face and an innate ability of trying to adjust her falling shoulder drapes infinitely. Then there was this learned panel which will sit with her and talk during the break. They were these smartest people of the game on this earth. Atleast, they thought so. Otherwise totally parochial and self contained. They would talk about the game and she would continuously smile at them, taking turns. So as not to offend anyone. And when she is not smiling, she would get back to adjusting her drapes.

Then there were other players on the ground. Sitting in stands. Full house. Each one to his or her own. There was this family with some twenty odd members. Hopelessly buying all the available food and bottled water. As if they were here for family eatout. Then an old man. Reading his serious novel in a seriously enclosed airconditioned stand. There were some film stars also. They had a day off. And they were trying their hard to grab attention of the camera and press. Parrying any eager intruder who could not add to their publicity campaign. Not to forget gangs of college students and some well dressed chicks. Fighting all the way to pin up their handheld posters and contoured countenances in the face of camera. It was a huge ocean.

Last but not the least. Amidst this ocean of players, we saw those poor eleven spectators standing on the ground. Today, like every other day, they would be mute spectators. Everyone playing with their existence. Demanding a quality of game which had to be unreal. Expected to do things that crown shouted. They had to stand upto everyone's expectations. They had to meet all the demands. Of the president, of the panel of experts, of the anchor lady, of the family and of the old man. Even those who were not in stands. Like the one sitting with his telephone consoles. Glued to the TV Screen. And they were not allowed to complain. They have to seek permission for that beforehand. Even paroxysm is punishable. If it is not notified in advance.

Now the game begins. These spectators will take the field and try to entertain all these players. Players have paid for this circus. These poor souls will try their hard and give it all they have. But they are only human. And if they loose things could turn bad. Their effigies burnt, their houses vandalised, their life threatened. But that is how game is played here. Someone rightly said , " Game is just for the players, not for the spectators". And for the sake of these billion plus players, the game must go on.

A Woodpecker's Story

When I was a kid, I was introduced to this tree by my father. And I was amazed. Looking at this giant I realised for the fist time that dad's beak was not the longest thing on this earth. This tree was much larger. Forget the tree. Even its branches were longer. Then one fine morning he told me the secret of our home. He said he pecked this tree with his long one to make this home. I laughed. I did not believe him. He also laughed me off. He said I will learn with time. He also added that he had pecked one too many in his lifetime and now he was growing old. One day I will have to be doing all this. Still in comfort of my existing home, I conveniently forgot all that he had said.

I grew up so did my beak. It was getting longer and stronger. One afternoon I perched and pecked. A berch came off. Big deal. He had talked about an entire home. Not one but too many. I pecked again. I could see a deep scratch. After three days my father was proven right. His laughing face flashed across my eyes. Awakening me to a sudden realisation of the truth which will stick to my fundamentals all through.

Things moved on. We shifted home. Me and him working together to create new ones. Oh, did I tell you why we needed to create new ones? Not that other woodpeckers were forcing us out of our old homes. They were also moving. Reason was something strange. I had seen him many a times. With an iron axe in hand. Two or three of them. They would chop off these big trees. Our homes. And then drag those to be loaded on a trailor. Not a single woodpecker in our locality has been able to figure out why they did this to our homes. Nevertheless, it always happened. They came, they fell our homes, they dragged those and then they were gone. We would fly to next one, peck again endlessly, create a new one. And then they would come again. We did not understand why!!!

One day an intelligent woodpecker came from town. He had been in a zoo. We all thought he would know the reason. We asked him. He was as clueless. All he knew was that these were also creatures of god and called themselves human. He knew one more thing. These humans would exchange our homes for a few pieces of paper with others like them. As sad as we were at the loss of our homes, we all laughed at this. We thought this was foolish. Why work so much for a few pieces of paper? The intelligent woodpecker hushed us. He had seen the world. Paper pieces were very important to these human beings. They could get anything by exchanging these paper pieces. They would fight and kill for these paper pieces. We again laughed and flew off. God gave us everything for free. Why bother felling homes of others and exchanging?

We saw a few more human beings coming. Time to make new home. These human wont ever change. My father was laughing again. This time at them. For a few silly pieces of paper!!! He was still not able to believe the intelligent woodpecker from town.