Remembering Holden Caulfield

I woke up to a very pleasant morning today.Pleasant - until I learnt that one of my most favourite writers was no more. Most favourite, despite the fact that I have had a chance to read only one of his books. Because he did not publish any other major titles. And that was a decade ago. May be fifteen years. Who cares! With good things, you don't keep a track of time. That book had an enormous impact on me. Sort of transformational. As a teenager, I remember not telling my mother that I am reading the 'Catcher'. I knew her well. She would not have approved. And I would miss out on something amazing. Was not going to happen.

JD Salinger died today. I learnt about it from the newspapers. But he left an immortal kid behind him. Yes, I am talking about the Holden Caulfield. That ever confused character from Sallinger's 'Catcher in the Rye'. One we all enjoyed reading about. Sometimes dreaded his situation, sometimes laughed at it and at other times just wondered 'how could he be?'. Whatever it made you feel, one thing was for sure. You could so easily immerse yourself into the life of Holden and those surrounding him. The story did not end with last page of the book. It took off from there. For weeks on, I kept thinking about what would happen to Holden now that book has ended and he is still stranded; still desiring; still the same confused kid? It was like one of those great stories you never wanted to end. But end it did.

And did I tell you how I got my hands on that book? Well, that is a whole different story altogether. It was lying in a dusty corner of my english teacher's personal cabinet. Old man was a genious and one of my personal favourites. I was in high school back then and spent countless afternoons at his place; listening to everything he had to say. He, his corner chair and his never ending cigarettes were constant features of my weekend life. And one day, while shuffling through his cabinet, I found this book.
I asked him, ' What sort of book is this? It has quite a funny name - Catcher in the Rye.'
He answered, ' Take a look and try reading it my friend. May be it will stay with you forever.'
And he was so right. Stay it did with me. Forever.

Chimera

I set off at dawn. On a long journey through winding roads and crumbling milestones.

That was a very fine morning when I left. No clouds, red sun and a pleasant colourless wind. Swirling across my face - touch of a ghost. A friendly ghost. But I had something else on my mind. I really wanted to get there. Get there fast and get it soon. Soon enough. I kept walking. At times, running the yards. Slowing down occasionally only to recoup my breath. I knew. If I dont get there someone else will. And I did not want to lose it. So that is how I kept going on. Driven by my desire, chased by my shadows. I made friends on the way. Good people and not so good. There were other good things too. Horses trotting, flowers blooming, birds chirping, cats yawning and gypsies singing. Many more. I remeber them. All of them beautiful and unique in their own ways. I wanted to keep them all. Be with them for ever. But I could not be. I had to keep going. They knew and they bid me a very friendly adieu. Each one of them. I moved on. Missing them and missing their beauty.

Days passed on. Time went by. I thought I was closer. I knew I was. I had to be. It was getting darker. Red sun was turning into a pale vision. Swirling wind was dying down. Flowers too far and too sparse. Birds and animals hardly to be seen. I knew I was getting there. It was a different world from what I had left behind. I missed it, but I had set out to be here. If I wanted all those beautiful things, I could have just stayed on. I could have not desired. I knew I had to be here and as darkness set in I saw end of the road. I was delighted and ran all the way till I reached the edge. I looked around. Hoping to find what I had come for. It was getting darker and difficult to see. I searched hard. But I did not find it. I sat down - tired and exhausted. I could still hear the faint sounds of gypsy songs. I could feel it. All the sound, all the light and all the music of that world I had left behind.

But I belonged here now. At end of this road. Tired and ready to sleep. And when I go to sleep, I will dream of gypsies, the red sun and the swirling wind. May be that is what I have always wanted and never knew. But atleast I know it now and know the way back home.

Lost Words

I wake up every morning trying to figure out just onething! Will I write today? By the time I get to a stage where I can find an answer, I get lost amidst other things. and so does my thought of writing. Shelved, untill I wake up again.

I know. This is not how it works. This is not how it should work. To be honest, my words have gone dormant. sleeping, waiting to be inspired and woken up. But at least I am doing something I promised myself I will. I am writing again. Words are coming out. May be not the way they used to. Nonetheless, visible. To me and to everyone else.

I also know. They are not lost or gone. They are somewhere. Hidden, waiting to be pushed out by me. Desire to write is never manufactured. I have always believed in writing when I feel like. If it does not come, it should not be forced. I am starting to feel it again.

May be, a time for revival. A time like those days. When I could scribble seamlessly. Words are a good friend. They talk to you and you talk back. Good friends never leave. Till they come back, let me figure out the answer.

The anti Narnian dollar

I know. The title is little confusing. But given the state of Zimdollars ( local currency of Zimbabwe), I was reminded of Aslan's Narnia. A state of prosperity and growth. No chaos, no disorder and no let downs. Zimbabwe, today, is contrary to everything that Narnia could be. I do not mean to intend that there is any Narnia state in this world. But there is a limit to how low a state can go. Zimbabwe has touched the nadir. A trillion zimdollar can buy you half a glass of goat milk. That is, if you are lucky. Reckless printing of currency by Mugawbe regime has led to a total economic collapse. and with it collapse of any hope that Zimbabwe could be revived. I am keeping my fingers crossed and heart is with all those trillion dollar rich ultra poors of the world. May they have a hope.

Quagmires

Follow the sun, you will feel the heat.
Tread the ice, biting cold in your feet.
Splash of a sundown, darkness abound.
The breeze will breeze through in a wink.
Where will you go? In sand you will sink.

Stay – you’ll loose; run – e’thing you’ll leave.
What is it that you want? The time is timeless.
Do you want to know? It is what it always is;
Sun will go down; ice’ll melt, only to freeze.
Where will you go? Do you think you know?

The dilemma of a migratory bird

I was very young back then. Everyone in my neighbourhood had done it at least once and they had stories to tell. I loved hearing their tales. I always wanted to fly far and wide. See everything that I had not seen and only heard about. But I was apprehensive, at times afraid. Listening to their stories, I knew, it could be tough and ruthless out there. As beautiful as this unseen world was, there were troubles and things could get tough out there. I had a choice to make tonight. Should I fly this season or wait for another snow?

If I did not fly, I will loose another year while everyone else enjoyed tropics. I will be left alone, braving this winter with my best friends’ old grandparents while him and everyone else will be seeing that beautiful world out there. But if I did fly, it will not be easy. It will be tiring. Finding those worms to eat, those trees to rest on and avoiding being hunted down - all of this will require lots of work. Constantly and consistently. Then there was no guarantee. I did not know what was in store for me out there? For all I know, I might not be able to make it across the ocean. I was really confused. I did not know what to do. Time was running out. Everyone else was leaving next morning. Very early morning. Even before sun comes out and while it is still dark. Earlier than what granny calls ‘twilight’.

Thoughts of granny reminded me of days when I had no doubts in my mind. No dilemmas, no decisions to make. But she had told me one more thing which I never forgot. She said, “There will come a day when you will have to fly. Like everyone else does. Far from here. Far from snow. You will be afraid and you will have doubts. You will worry about things. But at end of it all, you will fly. Because that is your destiny. Our destiny. But always remember no one leaves forever. You will come back. To the same place. But things would have changed when you come back. Snow will be gone and so will be many other things. Being replaced by all things new. You can not stop the change. You have to adapt to it and you have to learn - to live, to fly and to come back to where you belong.”

I thought about what she told me. She was usually right so I decided to fly. Next morning, even before the twilight, I was ready to fly. And we all took off. I looked back. It was all white and my big home seemed such a small place. The trees looked like shrubs, shrubs looked like leaves and leaves looked like dots. Things had started to change already. I turned my head away and I saw distant lands. Places and things, hitherto, unseen. Here was this new world in front of me. Until I came back, this was my home.

The sense of nonsense

It is not often that we witness a world full of possibilities as envisaged by the definition of humanity. On the contrary, it is a rare or, to put it as a matter of fact, an obsolete occurrence these days.

Today was another such day. This world woke up to fifth straight day of Israel-Hamas standoff in West bank. I mean, the current form of standoff. I have lost the count of how many times and in how many ways they have come face to face in past. Trying to kill each other. And kill why? Because they want to live. This irony – destroying lives to live - fails me. To kill and kill again so that lives are saved. This does not make any sense at all. I will not and I do not want to lay blame on any one party for starting this. My sensibility does not permit me to do that. I believe a war starts when a blame is laid. A dispute surfaces when a finger is pointed out. We clash because we collide.

Any conflict is born out of desire. The intensity of desire and the insanity of resolve determines the extent of destruction and the resulting chaos. At the root of this conflict also is a desire. Inner desire of all Palestinians to be a part of organised state and to enjoy privileges afforded to every other human being. For a quarter of century, while Israel was building itself into an ideal democracy amidst all the hostilities, Palestine was mere a British controlled community. Israel was and is synonymous of a resolve that is not individualistic. It is a symbol of social resolve and mass desire. It is also a symbol of success, human bonding and democracy. Palestine is not. Not that it is Palestine or their people’s fault. It is their ignorance and a common insensibility pervading their society. It is also their lack of constructive social resolve which Israel possesses in unquantified measures.

Palestine is a nation gone wrong. Not because they did it wrong. But because they did not know how to do it right and because they did not have leaders to shape it up through its entire building process. History is witness to the fact that great nations and ideal societies are built by a few visionary leaders. It’s an easy job to maintain a society in its current form once the baton is passed over. Toughest part is to build it into an ideal society subscribing to all the doctrines that humanity advocates. And that Palestine missed. If only David Ben Gurion had a half brother across the West Bank border, things might have been very different. What it has, instead, is Hamas. Which wants its men to marry four women and breed as many children as possible so that all of them can fight and die for the Cause. Where is justice in that for all the children of Palestine?

And Isreal – Palestine is not the only story. There are others. Civil conflicts in Africa, Terrorism in India, Cartels in Colombia and many more. All of these born of out of desires. We are most evolved of species. So are our desires. Having broken off the barriers of primary needs of food, shelter and safety, we want so much beyond.

A desire to control, desire to seize, desire to overpower, desire to own, desire to excel, desire to beat. What happened to the other form of desire that we read about in books? A desire to give, desire to construct, desire to nurture, desire to pacify, desire to build. Are these only confined to books and fantasies?

Something has seriously gone very wrong. We love to hate each other. On the basis of caste, creed, origin, religion, colour or anything that we can think of. We have to stop finding sense and pride in all our nonsense and foolishness. Big question is – can we do it? So far, no. But there will be another day and hopefully there will be a generation born with a wonderful dream. A dream to coexist and to live for each other. To give and to build will be their legacy not to kill and destroy.