The walk of life is more than often not walked alone

And I am not talking just about those who listen and talk back (including Siri; yeah, like you guys would let me exclude him/her/it) but also those inane things which constitute the maximum hours of companionship except when you are sleeping and not reading this.Let’s ponder. Also since, I have nothing better to do at this hour but coax you guys to mull about some philosophical junk which after having converted into words I will propagate to amass a whole lot of credit and some uninvited smart comments.

But really, a lot of productive hours of mine have been spent musing upon one particular episode of the show “The United Stats of America” on TV. The hosts are 2 brothers who statistically attempted to prove how the solution to one significant problem of “Not much Time” lies just with us. In today’s “bullet-train” pace of life, we are succumbed to or rather voluntarily give ourselves to staying perpetually connected to technology. Today, “I forgot my phone” could very easily be categorized as a national crisis. I am not even going to dig the reason as to why we are enslaved by today’s tech. But do we, perhaps in the wee seconds of consciousness in the exhausted pre-sleep period retrospect as to how much of our lives are consumed and dictated by gadgets and the like. We don’t and if some smart ass believes that he/she does then you’d be lying because unless you are such a big fan of mine to take a print out of this piece, you are most likely reading it off your computer/tablet/phone/watch/washing machine/refrigerator etc. 

So when we have run out of dilapidated quizzical paths in the ramshackle ruins of Temple Run or have catapulted till the last Angry Bird found its cool, we pause. First to marvel at our feat, shake off those burnt out fingers and then realize it’s been 14 hours since I last spoke to anyone. Suppose we did find someone to talk to, who is to guarantee that he/she is not currently on a spree to beat your score?

Then we have an overdose of other applications provided by Android and iOS; Blackberry still maintains an innocuous impression of a business phone and they do not believe in the phrase “All work and no play makes Mike a dull boy”. Given the overflow of applications, we now have an App market in the phone for users to browse and download. There are all kinds of App: 375689 camera applications, 37839 social applications, 653803 creepy applications, 974638 applications for applications, 478593 applications to understand the application for the application. Phew! A decade back all an application made sense was the one I had to write to the class teacher explaining why I was absent from school. 

The rate at which applications are being developed, some smart phones are rumored to be able to gauge the temperature of the user, calculate calorie burn, BMI, determine the sex of the user, have sex with the user, roll out tissue papers, make exotic cocktails, cook a seven-course meal, ride a horse, fly a plane, buy an island amongst a host of other unbelievable superpowers. 

Life without your gadgets seems scary now, but do you wonder a life with only your gadgets?So my dear Blackberryians, Androidians and iEverythingOnThisPlanet-ians, before we become a gadget ourselves, I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to you know, talk and listen to a human more frequently than once in a while. 

Do keep in touch. Oh, by the way what is the latest game on Android?

Looking back...

Stale memories of years. An inebriated confession on some piece of paper

atop the refrigerator. A love lost or an indignation unexplained. A tired

question and that answer unheard. Of hopes and distances. A joke amongst

pals but laughter amidst solitude. Of clarity in confusion but the obvious

clueless. Words lost in the age of abundant talktime and yet find aplenty to

blog. Mind parched of reminiscence. Retrospect, recognize, respect, reassure and then...Re-write!

Footwork

Yawn! Did you sleep well? Well I did, but I bet our neighbors had a sound sleep being close to the Air Conditioner last night. Although, it doesn’t matter now since we have the whole day of stepping to do. The floor feels so cold after the warmth of the bed and like that was not enough, we got wet! But after all these years the things we have been subjected to, we are literally a part of his life and we carry such a huge weight, again literally!

No, No, No, No, not those same socks again! We refuse! Just because we don’t have any sense of smell doesn’t mean we are void of feelings. Whom are we kidding though? It’s not like he is going to listen to us. Or did he just guess?? because thank God, he found a fresh pair. And now, here comes darkness over our lives for the next 12 hours or sometimes more; no thanks to his partying habits directly after work!

Stop wriggling, will you? I can’t lay flat with you fidgeting. And from the confinement I am in, the only highlight for me is the melodious sound of our kind from outside. The years of experience has honed my skills so much, I can tell a child from an old man to a lady and the lady in high heels. The orchestra of skids, taps, squeaks, thumps, clip clops, clacks transfers me to this non-existent melodious world of music until such time when I scream out Ouch!  Ouch!  Ouch! Ouch! Some confounded idiot with his head in the clouds oblivious to his surroundings steps on me and walks off! His weight almost killing me, leaving the shoe fuming for taking away its shine!

The cacophony of angry engines, clatter of cycles, voices over voices, sweat, din, and dust replaces the harmony as the clustered street gets ready to devour. You wouldn’t think politics is of any interest to us. But, I will tell you otherwise. For, politics is the reason I believe, which amongst other things offer us this ill-trodden road to walk upon.  Failure is the stepping stones to success is an idiom you moron! You don’t have to take it literally and leave the road strewn with stones. Success would be a far cry; before that you will land up with sore feet in a hospital nearby. But seriously, pity our woes and mend the streets as soon as possible.

Well some respite now at least for the next 9 hours. As he gets busy with his work, I indulge in some severe day dreaming. Far from the hell we endure daily, is a lush green field I desire to walk on with nothing so much as a cloth, suede, leather or canvas in between. The dew filled blades of grass, the pristine rays of the Sun, the nature’s abundance makes the ground beneath me a paradise! Pretty soon, the day dreaming ceases as we get ready for another chapter of turmoil.

I wonder if he has ever heard the sound of relief in unison as soon as we are given our freedom from the stinking and suffocating covers. We are happy we can breathe again, see each other again and relax a while before we are put to the grind again. We are the simple 10 who just requests to be kept clean and happy and in return we shall carry your burden. For the readers guessing still, I am your loyal feet!

Far from the rush...into the crowd

It needs no second telling that one should always be prepared for Delhi’s traffic and plan your commute accordingly. I too planned and that’s about it. Giving in to my laziness, my plan remained only a 4 letter word and had it not been for my friend I would not have realized the time. I had to catch a train at 2 pm and I was still dilly dallying with a glass of coke and a cigarette where I had just about an hour and a half to reach the station battling the traffic on the way! 

My friend’s excellent maneuvering in his Chevy in the forever traffic of Delhi saw me at the station with barely a few minutes to spare for the train to embark. Now, this is perhaps a general expectation of guys out there to desire for an “interesting” (connote as you may) co-passenger especially in a long journey and I am no exception to that. But as always, got disappointed when I took a glance at my co-passengers with whom I am stuck with unintentionally for the next 20 hours. All males and wearing grumpy faces with a look that says “you may try to kick off a conversation but I am sure as hell not interested”. Perhaps, they too were in some way disappointed like me! 

My train reached the destination ONLY 8 hours late. We all can do away with the redundant discussion of how the Indian Railway’s non-existent time schedule works. I am happy that I am home. Eating and sleeping beside the mundane chores kept me busy in the 1st week. Then there was some occasional driving around in batches with my nephews, my folks, my brother. Shopping was justified with the whopping bill I raked. My brother helped – adding to the bill. 

During the festival, it’s customary for people to throng in crowds to have a glimpse at the gorgeously crafted pandals (temporary structures to showcase the idols) and the creatively sculpted idols. One thing I tell you, driving around in this maddening crowd is well…. Maddening! Maybe being an Indian has inculcated this feeling of comfort even in a crowd that you tend to actually enjoy watching the live slideshow of people all dressed in their perhaps best attires. The ladies in particular must have given attention to every detail in the process of decking up and causing the clock to sweat its brow in patience. The result – sheer attraction for some and blatant repulsion from others! No offence but makeup overdone is such a turnoff! 

Rest of my days at home was spent in rigorous calisthenics in the form of some front lawn cricket and football with my brother and nephews. Truth be told, it was only for 1 day. The muscle aches were a reminder good enough not to indulge more in these activities, for I am here to rest and not tire myself out!


Having flirted enough with my sugar levels with the continuous gulping of roshogollas, lal mohons, khir kodoms and the likes, I decided to pause, no not to stop as you might have presumed. The social formalities, meeting the neighbors (after some painful persuasion from my folks), the gastronomical delights from my Mom’s kitchen etc came to a halt. Finally, the 2 week long vacation comes to an end and leaves me with a bittersweet feeling. As much as I would have loved to enjoy some more time in the laps of comfort and luxury, I also had to get back into the corporate grind where I think I belong. I will not stop cribbing and complaining about the stagnant traffic, crowded metros, scorching summer, ignorant people etc. but being bred to it for so long these are all a part of me and in an eerie way they were missed when I was away on my vacation. 

But being the travel enthusiast I proclaim to be with a conscious effort of not sounding pompous, I am here at my office, resuming work post vacation and already planning my next trip.

Book Review - A Walk In The Woods by Bill Bryson

One should not judge a book by its cover. However, literally speaking, you can certainly anticipate a good read when the author starts off as I come from Des Moines. Someone had to. Bill Bryson did just that and his A Walk in the Woods was indeed a good read. For someone who is outdoorsy, this book would just add fuel to your passion if trekking and hiking are the kind of hobbies you pet. But, the book would hopelessly fail to be categorized as a standard travelogue because its much more than that. The Sunday Times wouldn’t go throwing away their well amassed reputation by quoting Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods” as a seriously funny book because it is a seriously funny book! 

For a space constraint summary, this book could be just about Bryson’s walk through the Appalachian Trail which is the longest continuous footpath in the world stretching approximately 2200 miles on the East Coast of United States from Georgia to Maine. But, such a summary will not be able to justify Bryson’s experiences with the perils inhabiting the wilderness, the arresting beauty of the nature, the challenges from an irrational hike-companion, the economic affordability, the unpredictable weather, the unreliable map, the amusing fellow hikers on the trail and much more which has been captured in the book.  

A Walk in the Woods would definitely pass as a guide for things to pack and do’s and do not’s in a trail. It educated me amongst much other learnings, the difference between thru hikers and section hikers. But, what separates the book from a mere travelogue is the regular dose of accurately timed humor. It is almost as if the author would realize the monotony of some essentially elongated description and catch the reader off guard with a sudden shot of wit. 

And to the few who perpetually loves to dig deep into the matter to extract some kind of invaluable lesson, Bryson has catered to them as well. A lifetime ambition to not die outdoors tethered by his undeterred psychological and physical endurance amidst frequent impediments encountered in the trail packs a message they can carry back home from this read. 

I was yet to see the last 50 odd pages of the book but just couldn’t help distracting myself to some extensive search online and ending up cajoling and coercing my friends to accompany me for a hike early next year hopefully in the foothills of the Himalayas. Clearly, I was adventurously inspired by Bryson. But what one takes from the book is - to each his own!

Rendezvous

Writing from the Capital, I am lost in reminiscence. A week has gone by since I was introduced to her and I feel something amiss now. Almost as if I forgot and left something with her. So here, I attempt to retrace my steps to find an answer.

The call from her was inkling for quite some time now and I had to answer it. After some careful considerations, calculations and planning I decided on a date and set out to finally meet her. The fact that I started out early to see her soon did not go well with my destiny but I wasn’t the one to give up. The long arduous way cursed with the scorching sun was all a part of nature’s elaborate plan to discourage me. I noticed, like me there were a lot of other people too who was in a rush to meet her. What seemed like a few hours eventually felt like an eternity. At this point, I am perhaps exaggerating quoting the phrase “what does not kill you makes you stronger” but the situation was no less demanding. Undeterred, I went on.

Evening dawned. With the sun calling it a day, dark clouds took over the sky. A pitter patter of sorts brought a smile upon my face. I love this weather and this makes it just perfect to stage my rendezvous with her. The more I closed in, I could feel her presence. Just then, almost theatrical, to mark this union, the sky cracked open and it started to rain. I adjusted my vision through the big drops to see what was in front of me. Just the way I had expected, it was magical when I was welcomed by her with open arms. She gave me the feeling like I was lost all this while and has now found my way back home. The warmth of her reception was unparallel and I did not hesitate to surrender myself to her charm.

The rain decided to linger for some more time either in forms of a drizzle or a momentary heavy downpour. I wasn’t the one to complain. I was thoroughly enjoying her company. She made me connect with the nature, the same I had a tiff with earlier on my way. She showed me to a scanty little forest upon a hill cart road but the size of the forest did not matter. It was simply rejuvenating to inhale that air where all my persisting troubles and anxieties abandoned me and I choose to relax and unwind in her lap.

She must have heard my hunger growls and opened the doors to her delectable specialty. All thanks to her, I have never tasted such delicious kebabs in my life. To top it, there was adequate variety and quantity of beverages to accentuate the overall experience. I overshot my appetite and quenched more than my thirst. Combined with the perpetual precipitation I sank into a stupor and before I knew it I was lost in her love.

She also provided me the opportunity to meet some very beautiful people with such compassionate personalities. Their hospitality makes me strangely guilty because I could not give them anything in return to meet the standard of care rendered by them. My respect for them boosted and my love for her grew even stronger.

But all this was like a dream, only short-lived. I had to come back to Delhi and tune myself to the plastic life again while all along yearn only to go back in to her arms.

With her, I received more than I gave and left more than I brought back with me. Yes, I came back. I had to leave her and come back but with a promise that I will lose my way again into the quaint and tantalizingly beautiful “Bareilly”.

Perdidi Identitatis

This is not the first time
I have witnessed this feeling before
When I feel the pressure mounting
I am a quarry to my own soul

Perdidi Identitatis

When you are surrounded by obstacles galore
Which to choose and what to ignore?
When you are programmed only to please others
And no one gives a damn about you anymore!

Perdidi Identitatis

Every stone unturned, every battle fought
Compromises made, truce called
Defeated, upset, exhausted and sore
This is not what I had sought

Perdidi Identitatis

Clichéd for me is “Rise after a Fall”
I have lost all will and have no desire
To break away from all, is what I now aspire
I am waiting for that final call

Perdidi Identitatis

Revisited my answers; done with the questions
In solitude I seek the bliss; so it doesn’t matter if..

Perdidi Identitatis