Where is my coffee?

All I need is space for expression
For my thoughts to take a path of a relentless flow
And find their way across the universe
They make me bounce back with vigour
Empty my soul of Idleness
Oh to be restless and disturbed
Is to seek a new awakening.
It will only fade away,
Once you remember to start to control it.
I see a frizzy haired girl next to me
She peeps into her books for hours on end
Searching and seeking for the answers.
The walls of the library are bright and warm
I don't ever wanna leave.
Writing in lines of short make it easier.
I don't need to explain.
My eyes search eagerly for a green dot
But I see none.
I had a dream today
It made me awaken in pain and tears
It asked me to wake up and smell the coffee
Where is my coffee?

Freedom defined

My dad asked me to explain what freedom means to me.

I answer:

I think the definition of freedom
Lies in which way you look at it
Freedom is often an illusion
You are only as free as you imagine yourself to be
For me, freedom lies within
It is the closing of holes which over time tarnish the soul
Holes in the soul which are controlled by attachments
Forming webs of suffering which we get caught in
For me freedom is to be free from suffering, bit by bit
To get to a place, where nothing external can break through and reach me
Its easy to say, but the most difficult thing in the world
One may argue that to not have the external affect you
Is to not live at all.
But the strongest personalities in the world
Have let the outside affect them to enable them to rise above it.
They have gone on to create something significant for themselves and the world
The popular notion of freedom is to give up all
For to give up all worldy posessions and people who are near to you
Requires a hermit out of you.
I feel that we are all called to be free in our own ways
In our own special paths which are laid down for us
And this is the way which will lead us to be free
To find the road which is blurred by our conditioning
And the environment in which we live
I think freedom lies in every step
In every choice and to know you made the right one
Or to learn an important lesson from the wrong one
It is the travel to the gate and not the gate standalone at the end
It is to break down the conditioning
By constantly questioning, challenging and seeking new experiences,
By overcoming that which is unpleasant
To find your true self.
It is a continuous struggle and calls for introspection at every point.
The temporal is constantly inextricably linked with it
There is no escaping worldy ways and rules which help define us
We will always be bound by duty, by responsibility
But, I believe these become a little easier to understand.
I don't deny it is still a struggle to decide.
These are only tools in our hands which cannot be thrown away
They are vital to help us create a means to an end.
And an end I will find.

Rambling girl

Cigarettes can not substitute people.
Instant happyness = me on guitar.
The Nicest people can also by the shittyest.
Family-time, however boring and nice, is vital for the right balance.
Doing what I feel is more important to me than doing the right thing. Not something I'm particularly proud of.
Any day minus the ppl I love = scary.
2009-2010 is fast turning into the year I've made the most number of friends.

Next year, this time where will I be?

An explaination

I thought long and hard about what to say
Its hard to convey some of which is enmeshed in my soul
When few can understand it.
And fewer whom I care so deep about
To want to give some of my soul to them
My soul so precious, my very own
To the sun who wants everything revolve around it
I fear will lose things one by one
The sun whose very essence is to burn
Will burn things in its orbit
And cause unbearable regret and pain, too late realized.
I fear for the sun and for myself
For I see the sun burn me up too
And it causes me to move away
As it will only create shackles and bind me
I see myself as a bird
I once was trapped, then I was free,
but I cannot let myself
be trapped again
I see myself, a tune unrestrained,
One which cannot be held shut inside a musical box
Its the very thing which kept me away for so long
I sensed them then too but now the signs are clear
And they do not disappear like I hoped they would
I wish I was like Sita, but I am not her, yet.
To be like her is my struggle and my sorrow
My pain and my happiness.
But, till then I tread forward holding
The invisible hand of providence.
I will get to a place where I break down
The fences which aptly containing my yearning
It will set me free
All I seek is the Shiva in me.
One day, I will be with him forever.

Skyblanket

The world I see, so far beyond my reach
time travels so slowly, but still
they say a dreamer's dreams they never die
But how loud they moan, when met with peril

Trapped between rocks of fear
There is no place to run and hide
The sky is a blanket and the water below
There is no green for miles and miles

The path may take you on a different road
The one you chose strewn with what you cling to its hope
But water flows slow to slowly quench
The thirst which builds up within your soul

Does the story have an exciting end
Of dreams which knew no beginning or base
Are left to wander for themselves
And are stuck, lodged in a crevice

Time will tell, time my master
Time hides the harshest of truths but reveals
A blanket thrown into an open sky
To uncover vastness which describes no means.

All light may swivel, all darkness may fade
The twists which lend the story thus
But, what is left and that's all thats worth
To carry forth, the gold and dust

Life's a battlefield

A million thoughts flow throw my head
They strike and tarnish my soul with poison tipped arrows spreading
gloom and depression in their paths.
They draw me from side to side, pull at me with strings.
Make a joke out of me, a clown with empty tears that don't stop.

I feel battered, abused by none other than myself
The weight burdens my mind , not with regret
But at my inability to delay to awaken
Nothing but a stone, now glow or shine of the divine

They say eyes reflect the soul
Do people see stones in mine?
For I am the soul, the stone is me
There are no windows, I feel trapped.
The empty echoes, echoes in emptyness
Lonely streets they mock me
I swore never to write out of depression
It's not depression, its inertia which overthrows; renders me incapable.

I look for God desperately, I look in songs, I look in my heart
He stays far away. And all I receive is emptyness

Writing was an exercise to feel good but look at me.
All flat, but I don't care
No voice that soothes.
No song that is mellow.
Can dark art be called beautiful?
I used to think so
People are dying. Their death is real to me
I study it like a technicality.
I study questions around if we should show the events which led to their deaths.
It doesn't free me.
Why am I not free?
I speak of causes and the past
I speak of what led me here.
But the mistakes and hardness of heart
Remind me each time.
I need to quell these.
Like a demon blown out of proportion.

I once was on an aeroplane
Landing in this new place
Full of hope and imagined splendour
My beautiful life and all that is left of it
My abilities, I had them once
It's not so much about having them as reminding me that they exist
My heart wants to feel again
My head wants to be unburdened
Where is the fire that once was?
Or did I imagine it.
I rarely write this way
The optimist in me, never lets me
But this gives me pleasure.

My feelings are real
As time goes by, fear takes over.
And, make me want to fight back hard.

Welcome to the universe

One of the nicest and the most unfortunate things about life is that you always get the unexpected. Reality hardly matches with your expectations about people, places, experiences, life. It never matches with your carefully considered way to get to where you want -the easy and safe path that takes you there, strewn with the obstacles you can scale easily, where you emerge shining as the the overall hero and champion of the story.

Why is it unpleasant? Coz its something which unwraps itself differently from the neatly wrapped present you pictured in your head. The present you you made with thoughts of endless scope and possibility. Of blazing change and burning from within which takes you to higher places never seen before. Comforting thoughts of how you can overcome any kind of resistance. How you will always douse the fire which eats you from inside and stroke than fire which merrily burns on. All given lesser meaning as the slow unwinding of something which was once so wound up takes place.

Even the most hardcore, adventure-loving, risk-taking person wouldn't jump into it all at once and accept things they way they are. With a lil space given to the possibility of the existence of such a brand of super-people, nobody is calm when chaos plays its part in producing the questions and blurring the answers to issues which arise when grappling with questions of whoami and whereami. I think these two questions live with people more often than people seem to care or realize. They seem to care and look for the answers even less.

Why is it nice again? Coz it pulls you beyond the suffocation of the 'idiot box' you are idiotically tricked into seeing because of the hedonistic ideals which are so ingrained in us, we hardly know they exist. To be comfortably wrapped in the illusionary cocoon of a place where you have everything you ever wanted.That's just the best feeling in the world, yea? Experience has led me to believe that it makes you feel really lousy when you get too comfortable. Although you don't wanna admit it when its in motion and your swimming against the tide, its probably better this way. At least this holds good for those among us who love to be challenged as much as we hate to be challenged.

Obviously, these which float on swishy, water-pools over my head are fresh on the realization that its been exactly a month since I've landed in London. The point by now is clear is to not elaborate on the wonderful-ness or the trashy-ness of life here.

Time flows like a river and you can't quite catch up with it. It frustrates you when you can't put every moment to good use. Sometimes, it sweeps you off your feet and you are knocked down and sit hard on the ground remembering that it once mattered to you at some point but you don't know when and why it did. And then you refuse to get up coz you wonder if the effort is worth it. The space between sitting and the getting up, thats the effort whose lack is gonna make us all extinct one fine day. It's also the very same which presents us a chance to make the unexpected evolve into something much more meaningful than an ordinary word like 'nice.' It's what makes everything worth it. The unexpected.

I wish

I wish I was strong enough.
I wanna be.
I am.

The lamp and the light

The light that shines in the darkest night
Is the one that is brightest thus
For it give light to the holder of the lamp, and comfort
When the darkness pierces and blinds.

The others see the lamp from afar
A mere distant twinkling
The joy it gives onself, many not know
They realize not what the lamp can bring

The holder of the lamp feels the burn within
A might force when all go wrong
Holds the lamp, holds it close
To nurture self, heal, protect and warm

There comes a time when the light requires
The burning lamp to move away
A chance to make itself burn brighter
To dispel light in other lands of grey

The holder of the lamp, torn asunder
His stubborn will to make the lamp burn strong
The fear of giving his lamp away
Comes with the fear of losing its warmth

He does not yet realize the eternal secret of the past ages
That the light can never be doused, in the face of strong
To rise outside its lantern home, to nurture the spark of other lamps alike
Is what which keeps the light blazing within, for long.

The lamp and light, one they will be
And dance in glory for eternity.

Redemption Song

She wanders restlessly, like the creeping mist. Fly-away curls lilt around like wisps of air around her face. Eyes which dance like bubbles of joy, out of reach from children. A half-smile rests on her face, a prelude to the rising of the sun. Yet, there is a touch of sorrow in her being. She, a wandering gypsy, caught between the silken curtains of time. She bursts into a silent song of beauty, unrestrained in its yearning.

"I seek God in man on earth. I search for a human form of God and not one of idols. A real God who can see and touch and feel what I do. I am the reason why people grope in the dark and make idols of simple men. Why else did the divine fragrance of holy men like Buddha and Jesus spread to all corners of the earth? How do I give myself away in love and ask for nothing in return? How do I channel devotion so powerful that its intensity can drown and strengthen alike. How do I gather myself in offering without fear or cowardice. What I want most is to break the selfishness that wraps the core of my heart; to uncover the bliss of solitude that lies within."

The wind rustled in the leaves. Its greenness shimmered like emeralds on fire. The leaves spoke in whispers, which bore the truth of all of eternity. "God resides in the hearts of all men, but he is not man himself. God speaks through the mouths of men, but man's words are not a statement of truth itself. You shall repeatedly be touched by the grace of God through man, but believe not that a man's acts of grace are of his own making alone."

The breeze made paper boats appear on the water, flowing. It gathered its breath into a freedom song. "You will neither be able to satisfy the selfish hearts of men. Nor, will they satisfy yours fully. If you want to give love away, do it not unto men but through men. When you see God in man, you will not be afraid to give anymore."

The endless river, blue and winding, carries the paper boats ahead and babbled thus. "Do not weep when men do not see your giving or acknowledge your love. The smallness of men's hearts creates shackles which only love can free."

Next was the grunt of a mighty banyan tree whose place of steady rest had seen through the seasons of change. "A man who gives without needing nothing in return is rare. These are the desires of men turned holy. It is not for those who lack inner strength and the weak-hearted. It asks for courage and freedom from mental slavery. I often see such desires, but not the discipline or the power of will to sustain the entire way. Master your self and come to me, I will show you what it means to be happy."

A songbird perched upon a tree, called from beyond. It broke into a melody, which carried on, far and wide. "Freedom lies in giving yourself away, for you choose to rise beyond your own need. It is an expansion of self which does not need constant assurance."

An old man, wearing a robe of silver held her gaze. He spoke thus: "Man and God. An infinite abyss exists between the two. Yet, there is a sacred union which every man possesses, waiting to be discovered. Men contain the essence of the God you seek. But, let not their inadequacies hurt you for they are weak and stumble. You have been bestowed with a special gift- the desire to love. So, use it wisely and well and in every step, you shall truly know what it means to be loved by the Maker."

So saying, the man and the songbird, the tree and the river, the breeze and the leaves disappeared into the thinness of air into the dark night and traveled a great way to give comfort to the trials of another wandering gypsy.

Runaway train

I sit here in my familiar room with the familiar smell of unpacked piles of clothes and books. My picture pastiche from a different time stuck jaded on the wall.Old photos with smiling faces and teenage high-school novels peer at me from a corner, drawing me back to the past. The air smells of confinement, yet of freedom.

I used to lock my room a lot while growing up. My mom used to squeal incessantly about why I don't roam in the garden instead, like other kids my age. I don't lock my room anymore. My mom still peeps in curiously, trying to gather as many pieces of me before I leave to London for study.

I give away snatches of thoughts to distinct people in my past who have helped craft me into who I am right now. I remember soft-brown eyes, toothy grins, tendrils of black hair, arched eyebrows, gurgling laughter and soft voices. I remember the words they said, the comfortable silences, plates of food brought-up, the care taken to make a cup of tea and the distant shouts of a thousand animated conversations. I remember wisps of smoke, the cold smell of winter just set-in and the sound of endless babble under the sheets through the night.

I hear the soft, consistent whistle of the train I'm on which plays in the background but does little to shake me from my reverie. It chugs on slowly and deliberately. I look out at the rain-soaked green and melancholic blue of the sky. I press my chin against the wet window rail and stare at the dull-red brick walls. Scene after scene unfold before my eyes, like an utopian world shot in black and white. I cannot tear my eyes away. The train has left the station some time back. And, I'm still looking back.

Freedom says to freedom

I felt a pang for the you in you
But not for the you in the infinite
The shades of colour you painted me
You just needed a paintbrush of a different size for company
They are fragile as a butterfly, yet mighty as a mountain
I saw innocence and warmth and a tender quality of love
And a hint of your past, your present and your future
Carefully measured and contained for the worthiest cause
Carefully poured into the vessel for the noblest of all causes.
Will the vessel slip through your fingers? And, blur the vision you so much adore?
Paint the world with the colour I see and not just coz of me
Empty the vessel to honour your passion and make the cause ring truer for you
I step by you, beside you, just to caress your hair and whisper in your ear
Just a shooting star on your starlit sky
One you can point at and remember
When I said: The you I see in you is the you in the infinite.

Dialogue

Hurtness:

How did you assume I would not understand?
Maybe you didn't understand me or care enough to understand me
But, it's fine-- I forgive you!

How did you assume I wouldn't know how much loving that someone special means to you?
Maybe you didn't think I would, but I do
So, hakuna matata and I forgive you

How did you think I would not know how irreplacable I am?
I would, coz I am good and you know
So, solpa chill madi, it's fine right? I forgive you

How did you think I would assume we value the same things,
You value love more, and friendship is more like me
Hopeless hopes, secret desires, I wish I was like you!
And there's no need to repeat, but I do forgive you.

But what went wrong, I must tell
Not to you, but to myself

What you didn't think about is how hurt I would be to hurt you
What you didn't think about is how bad I would feel to see you frown
What you didn't know was I care more or as much as you do
What you didnt know was for you, I wouldnt mind being the clown

I do pray for you, and I care I do
and on this note, let me forgive myself too!

It really doesn't matter if I'm right or you
as much as you matter, and mater you do

Just in case you thought I didn't, I forgive you!


Desperation:

Me and myself, we hope to become one someday
Don't listen to that which a rainy day may bring
But, with the sun in your heart
For the rain brings with it what the sun did not.
Don't let each truth stop your search for more
I seek to be as endless as you, but I'm not
With each step behind, I run along a lil' ahead
The tears I saw, tear at me too
For I hurt someone as beautiful as you
I write this for you to see me too
How much I yearn for myself to be closer to me
Coz through this, I want to be closer to you.

Home away from home

I moved away from home sometime back. More than a physical change of place..
I'm feel an explicable sense of moving on-ness. I already feel the distance.
I know i will love life there. crossed fingers.
where u can do whatever and be watever.. without nobody caring.
wrapped in a comfortable cocoon of anonymousness.
I really love my independence here.
n i've become a different person after here.
not so confused anymore.
and all the things which were fun.
All the things i always wanted to do
have ceased to be that.
Its like i want to know more and experience more
and i know thats why UK happened
I'm not happy with a mediocre life
I want to rise above the ordinary and discover that which moves me from the core of my heart.
I'm more grounded now.
n I'm wondering if I stopped being fun. But, thats just for everybody else.
It just doesn't matter like it used to
It's almost like I'm becoming a loner.
More self-involved.
and as for people
I'm convinced that
they wont stay no matter what.
you just meet em, they change u
and thats that.
u meet more ppl..
im just rambling on
...
Feels like im moving on
leaving something special behind
a lot of things
memories people
a part of me.
it has to happen for me to know more. Of me.
but I still haven't got used to leaving people behind
but I know for a person like me
I need to get used to that at like every step.

Thoughts from Whines, Grumble, Bitch & Cry

June 29, 2008

Its been a year.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It hits you hard when 4 years and more of togetherness apparently don't mean the world to the same people who you believed to have 4 years and more of togetherness mean the world to them. As a working woman who chose to live far away from the pillars of support she always needed - her boyfriend and family, independence came with a price tag she couldn't quite afford. It is the reinstatement of a philosophy torn by time. Love to her was always such a safe and secure haven that she completely ignored any feelings of in-adequateness that tagged along like a puppy over the years.

To give you some background, she had found a man many years ago, perfect in all his imperfectness. Everything, all the history, the music and the magic, was wiped clean in a second. Sometimes, permanent marker ink fades away easier than you think it. Doesn't the world require you to let bygones be bygones? Shouldn't everybody always listen to the world who dictates what is right and whats not.

She loved working and living in Delhi. She was always one for experiences, any kind of experience. She always looked to learn from even those which were not ideally her type of experiences. This was subtly instilled in her by many a bored forced bonding session with her dad which she grew to value and treasure over the years. She was happy, she was doing well in her career, she was optimistic for the future. She had money to spend on pretty things for herself. She had a so called caring boyfriend whom she could always take care of all the while denying the universal truth of the opposite. All neatly wrapped in a plastic ornamental cover. All set forever. Happiness is a warm gun they say. Happiness can also be shot through the heart, real quick.

Anyway, all plastic covers have to come off you know. Have you ever coaxed and cajoled all the imperfection into perfectness for somebody even if it meant neglecting your own needs? She did this in all earnestness and completely happy to. Why do you think she was capable of what you can call human-like selfless love. You know, those wet tissues handed to you on a flight? The kind you use to freshen your face and throw away. She felt like a used wet tissue at the end of the evening when the sun set on 4 years and more of togetherness.

All the wet tissue wanted was to be stored away in a pocket perhaps and used on another hot day. Instead, she was given the identity of a used wet tissue stained with a kind of a screwed up insecurity that just don't refreshen the same anymore. "You used to fresh me up in the past, but not now," the wet tissue was told. The worst bout her new found status was that it made her question herself. Did I not make the right decision? Should I have done something when I sensed it? What did I do really to deserve this? Have I not known only to love and give? All questions left answered. Isn't it funny how people always look to substitute something when they forget how they got there in the first place?

She realized that human beings do this. Human beings are fickle. Human beings always care less than they say they do. Human beings are capable of humiliating you like no other. She felt bad for God coz she believed in him. He must be a hopelessly disturbed God. She grew to understand God.

Falling out of love still seems an extremely western concept to her. It always amused her when celebrities calmly claim to fall 'out of love' weeks into their marriage. I'm not quite sure what it entails. Boredom to compromise? Heightened fixation or obsession with present happiness? Lack of recognizing whats really good for themselves due to a vision of extremely tunneled self-interest? Being Indian, she was definitely not used to it. She always thought that she and her now very not-so-significant other shared the same values. She retained Indian values as much as she was a product of new-age urban Indian mindset. Maybe that was the problem. Foreign lands always mess with your values. Its a pretty unstable trend. Which leave you very confused at the end of the day. Or, maybe the 'foreign lands mess with your values' bit is a huge farce. An excuse. Part of a massive chunk of denial she lived through all the years of her relationship. Values evolve according to your needs, don't they?

Do you know why really old men/women win prizes late? Only because it took them the time, the pain and frustration to get there. Quick time solutions are poor friends of the lonely, the attention-seeking and the talented. And leave you terribly guilty at the end of it too. In one words its - cowardice.

Until it happened to her. She fell out of love too. But for entirely different reasons. In fact, she claims that these are the only reasons you can really fall out of love for. Loss of respect was a huge factor. Loss of naivety was another. Always proclaimed naive by her family - uncertain of the ways of the world, unsure of life and all its twisted ways, too innocent and trusting of all people.
Loss of trust and care - its the easiest to guess. When your so sure of something, you become arrogant. Love can make you arrogant and proud. She was arrogant. But, like one of those stupid sayings you wish never came true just becoz they're so godammn pretentiously wise, it fell.

In a nutshell, you see a very fragmented soul. You can see how they directly correlate with lost values. Losing everything you believe in sounds impossible; but in reality is a death spell. Especially, when such a huge part of self is concerned. It was all brought on by giving too much to a relationship.

She and I start again. From scratch. After all, wisdom grows an extra tooth only after all the other teeth are done growing.

Why Eternal Sunshine?

I have this bad habit of making any blog of mine a personal one coz I tend to post too much of my soul in here. Why is that a bad thing? I dunno, prob coz there all kinds of weirdos who are reading this. And, also coz I've learnt to double-think mundane stuff I never really cared about.

Long days have passed between posts. I hesitated before listening to Cat Power today. Her music is way too soul-stirring for me. The kind that clasps around your heart and knocks the breath out of you coz her voice is so incredibly moving. Or maybe it's me. I know that that's the best ways music changes me, its just that it continues to remind me of very fragile times. I usually quickly jump her songs on my playlist. It something I consciously did and now it comes to me naturally. Kinda like all the things in my life I've learnt to control now.

It brought back all the murkyness I associated with those songs. Before, I would succumb headlong into the oh-so-familiar emotions of dread. Until I thought of eternal sunshine. I find that I'm now able to keep those at bay with a comfortable sense of detachment which leaves me feeling strangely, lighter.

Eternal sunshine are all those moments which told me that there's something special coming up, just for me. That everythings going to be okay. That the past is gone and I'm free to find my way home. That I'm new and un-tainted. It's the warm re-assurance of inexplicable secureness. Of beauty and mystery and magic. Of comforting discoveries from within. Of knowing exactly what to do while setting sail in the tempest..

Faith in unknown and unforeseen goodness can be frustrating if you have never experienced the overpowering goodness floating around. I can say that I am blessed to have seen it and to know just how much it can transform everything.

I guess I made this blog as a tribute to all those moments of surprising sunshine. And, however personal, felt like it's worth blogging bout.. as a reminder of sorts. Of how far I have come and how far there is to go..

Plastic Bubble Land

Fairy girl lit her fairy wand
And sailed through plastic bubble land
Rigid girl full of sweet sunshine
Fluttered through, while her rigidness made benign

Closed she was, inter mingled with subtle disdain
For she never bothered to hear a word
To her, she was all and so was he
She was the sea, the book, the bird

Bubbling over, blinding joy unconstrained
A plastic kind of smile
Unknown to her then.
A mirage it was, she gladly swam in it.
Till all the water dried up.

All rigidness lost, head held high
Learning to fly down a lonely road.
Joy contained, dreams contained
Perhaps to be opened for another day

Life went on, in a shade less pink
Life lived almost for the other's sake
Money was spent for her pretty pink dress
She grew to trust it less and less

Pandora's box, was waiting to break free
Shaking with lust and lies and hypocrisy
Charmed was she by the choice of fate
Of love which wailed with misery
Of a broken promise of a trusted friend
Of cold winds and hollow faces and images snatched from plastic bubble land
Of scattered music notes flying away in the wind.

So, fairy girl lost her pretty pink dress
Lost her cold calculated rigidness
Lost her zest for all things pink and pretty
Lonely was she, too tired to be.
But, this was just the beginning.

Unknown to her, nothing was lost
For what was lost was gain, and nothing else
For with the loss of self, she grew strong
Until there was little left of the pain

Fairy girl saw life less scary
Fairy girl saw hope blossom like a new sunrise
She laughed and loved and felt deep joy
The kind that came un-tainted with what people brought

Much she thought about her old plastic bubble land
Which she felt to hold on like a treasure, dear
But with serenity she let go
Because over time and change, she felt no fear.

The river goes on like an endless train
Of endless people, faces and memories bold
Happiness unbridled, crippling sorrow followed by bittersweet calm
All turned into one at the end of life's day.

This is the story of the fairy girl and her old, worn wand
In her precious, plastic bubble land.

Singin' in the Rain

January 26, 08'

The image of Madras when it rains will always be etched in my mind..

Its not just the rain. It so much more really. I hardly knew it then, but these will go on the becoming part of some of the happiest and most cherished moments in my life. Today all of these flashed through my mind with nostalgia and wistfulness. For the first time since I came here, I desperately missed Madras. Here's a random collection of glimpses into the sounds, the smells and the memories..

The gradual graying of the skies before the heavens burst open.
The intoxicating-ly damp smell of the earth as the first raindrops hit the dusty earth.
The overpowering lethargy of not wanting to go to school/college.
Listening to the sound of hard hitting rain on the asbestos roof above my courtyard.
Wearing bathroom chappals to school/college coz ur feet are gonna get wet anyway.
The small joys of not wearing socks n shoes to school that day.
Slushy roads I had to walk thru to get to my bus for college.
Being annoyed at dirt being splashed on the back of my jeans.
How the Anna Nagar roads looked flooded with water and people wading through them.
The lazy empty-ness of the classroom on a rainy day.
The rows of umbrellas I see lined up outside class.
The rumbling thunder in a distance while I daydream my way thru Macro class.
Getting my feet soaked in water puddles while walking from my classroom to where the bus is parked.
Avoiding all wet surfaces in the college canteen.
Wearing some ugly baggy clothes to college coz I just couldn't bother to wear something decent.
The sound of the rain splattering against my window.
Wearing socks to bed when it gets too cold at night.
Listening to loud croaking (really loud) of frogs ringing thru the night before i fall asleep.
Getting pleasantly half-drenched while walking back home after the bus drops me home and my mom's voice comfortingly barking at me soon after.
The touch of the wet door gate before I step in.
The neem tree just outside my house which pelts me with raindrops every time it sways.
The way the plants look in my garden just after it rains.
Untidy piles of garbage gently rotting in the rain.
Jumping over muddy brown puddles.
The freshly scrubbed green leaves on the trees after it rains.
The view from my kitchen window being a blur of green, brown and grey when I go for an afternoon snack.
Being pleasantly woken up to know that there's a holiday coz of floods and more heavy rains.
Hurrying (forcibly by mom) upstairs to get the clothes off the terrace before it gets wet and getting slightly rained on in the process.
Pretending to be Revathy n do that film song in the rain dance.
Walking barefoot on the ground when it rains.
Hearing the drains outside go drip-drip-drip after when it rains.
Curling up with a love-story when it rains.
Hot bajjis when it rains. Yum.
Watching that funny Mohanlal movie when it rains.
A power cut when it rains.
Hearing a transformer burst in a distance when it rains.
Being under an umbrella when it rains or under a blanket.
Sleeping when it rains, dreaming when it rains..

This is a nutshell is what I love about rainy days in madras.

The city of lights - My journey

American writer Mark Twain wrote: "Benares is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together."

I couldn't agree with the writer more. The first thing that struck me about the city was its misty antiquity. It had the aura of having experienced the ravages of time, people and civilization itself. The buildings look ancient and jaded. The people crude, rugged and real. It had a soul about it that held together the collective faith of humanity as a religion.

For a little background, legend says that the city was founded by Hindu deity, Lord Shiva around 5000 years ago. Many Hindu scriptures, like the Rigveda, Skanda Purana, Ramayana, and the Mahabharata have mentioned the city and it is one of the 7 most sacred Hindu cities in India.

Sitting on the train back to Delhi after a stimulating trip to Benares, I felt enriched and touched by the experience of having visited, what now is to me, the heart and soul of India.

We traveled in the local, second class train compartment - which carries all the normal folks who were traveling from Delhi - Benares. I felt spoilt as I shuddered at the grime of sweat, dirt and dust on the train seat. My feet wading in patterns of watery dirt which my co-travelers and I somewhat managed to soak up with old newspapers. A young woman sat with her squealing baby opposite me. Her eyes had the vacant look of a soul who is in terms with the drudgery of her daily life. I watched the foggy darkness engulf the crowds of houses, people and shadowed trees.

On the journey back, I feel enlightened at having experienced a world so stupendously different from mine, that my life back home seems to be a far away alternate universe. I compared and contrast my life the people, whose lives I peeped into over the last couple of days.

The poorest of the poor, who pick at garbage for leftover food, gathering it in their hands to sort out what can actually be eaten. This is not a rare sight, even in urban areas, which re-reinforced in me - However miserable the poor man's life seems to be, they are still happier in their routine "misery" than many of us rich, comfortable folks.

The middle class Indian, who visits Benares on a pilgrimage. He hopes that a dip in the Ganga will cleanse him from his sins but I strongly suspect that he will go back to doing the same sins the very next day.

Ancient looking sadhus - the ones you thought existed only in childhood stories of the Panchathantra- clad in pieces of cloth of bright saffron, hair impossibly entangled and filthy- roll their prayer beads in their hand.. and rest in temple corners.

Bindi-wearing tourists dressed in funky Khadi pants and Ganesh T- shirts strolling through the markets - Some high on dope, still others who visit India on a break trying to experience their so called "spirituality. "

Music pandits - playing the flute & Veena, ordinary men and women who bustle around the streets- selling, buying and immersed in their little businesses - be it devotional hymns, diyas, bangles, sweets and so on.

We stayed at a modest, little guesthouse called "Hotel Ganapathy" which overlooked the Ganges. It was cold and the sun could hardly penetrate over the thick fog that crept over the flowing water. It was serene and pure until your eyes moved to the where the water reached the edge. Here, you can see people bathing, people washing their clothes, buffaloes, little kids diving, garbage being dumped, people drinking the same water, performing pujas and all kinds of other imaginable activities.

Benares has many exciting little markets of contradictions where you would get to experience a heady mix of sensually stimulating sights, sounds, smells and flavors. You would see the numerous tiny gulleys and filthy streets swarming with people, animals, garbage all at the same time. Tiny colorful shops - selling touristy trinkets, plastic cups and spoons, hanuman idols, jewelry and scores of bangles of every rainbow colour. Women dressed in shiny colors of silk, merchants screaming their goods, selling hot samosas and chai, while some harmless looking cows quietly drops its gold dangerously near your foot. You would find Phillipino tourists bump into creepy yogis looking to make a quick buck. And, small beggar children pestering you for food and money as a part of the larger crowds of people calmly strolling through the filth. You would find religious sadhus in a trance and hot Aloo poori being sold on the next corner.

One highlight of the trip was the evening boat ride on the Ganges. Our boat floated along on the now, quiet waters- the seemingly calm, endless water before us, the crimson setting sun painting a riot of colour behind us and alongside numerous, ancient-looking ghats (nearly 100 in number, one ghat for every temple, so around hundred temples- these are a series of steps which lead from temples to the river)

The wind was chilly, but did not take our interest away from the many eye catching sights along the way. We saw a funeral and cremation taking place on the river-bank, and 2 saffron-red clad foreigners getting married on a boat! When I tried to take a photo of the latter, another foreigner lady got up in the boat and held the pallu of her sari to hide thew newly weds!!

My friends who were traveling with me visited a few temples but I was a silent spectator as I neither knew much about their religion and faith nor did it appeal to me greatly. By this time, dusk had forced the night to bring out its umbrella of darkness. The ride back to our hotel was beautiful. From a distance I could see a sea of light and dark, numerous diyas being floated on the water like dots of fire in a distance. I could hear the distant hum and bells of bhajans being sung with fervor. The air smelt cold and of camphor. We parked our boats on the side of one of the ghats to witness one of the major pujas being performed at one of the temples. Hundreds of visitors gathered prayerfully. I heard the opening strains of "Om Jai jagadeeshwa hare.. " being sung in unity along with the clanging of temple bells. Suddenly, it didn't matter what religion I belonged to. In that moment, I was touched as I felt a bubble of warmth and joy exploding inside. The faith of the people and the presence of God was so real and palpable, that it was hard not to believe that God was right there!

This trip was an eye-opener for a number of reasons.

I was somewhat disturbed to find myself a complete foreigner to this land. A country I had never attempted to understand - whose values, ethos and social systems were quickly typecast against the values of the western world always appealed more to my urban upbringing. It revealed how little I know about India, its culture and its people and its role in shaping my identity.

Next, it left me feeling slightly unsettled about the perceived unkindness or injustice of the stark inequalities of existence. The poverty in the city constantly slapped you in the face and left you uncomfortable. At the same time, it was soothing to know that it never stops people from losing hope or living their lives happily. I was born in this life and circumstances which to me now looks so perfect, its almost unreal. I grapple with knowing that millions of others did not get such a good deal.

Last, it made me realize that I most of the time either never notice or take for granted the distinct beauty of incredible India. The ethnic, cultural, religious, racial divide continues to break down barriers to give soul and light to the diverse potpourri, that is India.