flowers.of.dreams

చుక్కమ్మ చిరు కోరిక

2011-12-27T23:10:00.000+05:30

ఆఫీసుకి వెళ్తుంటే అల గాడు ఎప్పుడూ అడ్డు చెప్పలేదు. కానీ నిన్న మాత్రం చాల ఏడ్చింది వెళ్ళద్దని. తలుపు దగ్గర నుంచుని గడియ మీద చెయ్యి వేసి గట్టిగా ఏడుపు మొదలు పెట్టింది. అప్పటికే ఆఫీసుకి లేట్ అయింది. యెంత సర్ది చెప్పినా వినలేదు.
'నువ్వు వెళ్ళద్దని' పెద్ద పెట్టున ఏడుస్తోంది.
ఏడవడానికి కారణం లేకపోలేదు. ఈరోజు ఇంట్లో మధ్యాహ్నం దాక వున్నా. దానికోసం ఒక make-shift ఇల్లు దుప్పటితో కట్టా. దాంట్లో దాని పిల్లల్ని, నా పిల్లలుగా చూసుకుని పడుకోపెట్టా. అదీ దాని సంతోషానికి ఆ తర్వాత ఇప్పటి విచారానికి కారణం. చందమామ కథ మధ్యలో అయిపోయినట్టనిపించెందేమో! ఏడుపులోకి దిగింది.
ఈ చిన్న మెదడులో ఏమి ఆలోచిస్తుంది, ఏయే విషయాలు తలుచుకు ఆందోళన పడుతోంది అని అనిపించింది. ఎలా అర్థం చేయించాలి, ఈ చిన్న wonderకి అనిపించింది. ఆఫీసుకి వెళ్ళకపోతే చెల్లి దగ్గరకు వెళ్ళడానికి డబ్బులు ఎలా వస్తాయమ్మా అని అడిగాను.
నాకు తెలుసు, ఇది బ్రహ్మాండంగా పనిచేస్తుందని. నువ్వు, అన్నయ్య స్కూల్ కి ఎలా వెళ్తారమ్మా అన్నాను. ఏడుస్తూనే ఆలోచించింది. ఆ చిన్న బుర్రలో ఏ thought ప్రాసెస్ నడిచిందో తేలీదుకాని. ఏయే ఆశల్ని, ఏయే కోరికల్ని ఎలా పరిహరించుకుందో తెలీదు. తనకు తానూ ఎలా సర్ది చెప్పుకుందో తెలీదు.
'మరి, తొందరగా వచ్చెయ్యాలి మరి,' అని కండిషన్ పెట్టింది.
'తప్పకుండానమ్మా' అన్నా.
వెంటనే వెళ్లి సోఫాలో కూచుంది.
ఆఫీసుకి వెళ్లాను, రిపోర్టులు కొడుతూనే వున్నా కానీ మధ్య మధ్యలో చుక్కలాంటి చిన్న మొహం గుర్తొస్తూనే వుంది.

sans noise, it's a great Deepavali

2011-10-26T18:14:00.000+05:30

High inflation is not all that bad. don't scold me friends, but true. high inflation has a telling impact on Deepavali this time. it is environmental friendly Deepavali this time. not by any choice but people are forced to buy less of crackers this time. nights before Deepavali days went silence. i know for sure, all little kids and pigeons could sleep, a 'sound' sleep, early tonight!

My Village, My World, the DVD wrapper

2011-10-12T09:58:00.000+05:30

reunion

2011-10-09T17:57:00.000+05:30

That was really a wonderful day, meeting old pals at our school after 30 years. some of them have not changed a bit. some travelled hundreds of kilometres for the rendezvous. brain is such a wonderful thing -- it could rewind all the memories associated with that ground, walls. ...and the short film on the village and friends got good response.

a letter from my son

2011-09-30T09:58:00.000+05:30

(Have you ever asked me to go and play? not just computer games, any game.You always ask me to read.

A peep into past

2011-09-29T18:37:00.000+05:30

Last 15 days have really been quite hectic. Taking visuals, doing interviews, collecting pictures, talking to video-editor, pestering friends at village -- all to make a documentary. As I told you earlier, our high school friends are meeting after 25 years in Hiramandalam (Srikakulam). and, i offered to make the film. It's really fun, though hectic, looking at the black-and-white pictures of friends. A good part of the day 'm reliving those moments again. Sad to hear that some friends passed away -- all unnatural deaths. RIP!

2011-09-24T23:12:00.000+05:30

ellora

2011-09-24T23:04:00.000+05:30

If you have not seen Ellora caves already, you must go there! though i read in history books about the carving out of a mountain to build temples and monasteries, it is really visual splendour. Seems, it took 10 generations (200 years) for some families to complete these architectural marvel. Buddhist monks found this serene place, some 60-70 km away from Aurangabad, to set up base. and when they decided so, they chiseled this mountain out. they were followed by Jain monks and Shaivites to make these mountains their home.
I was really flummoxed by a particular Buddhist cave. they built in such a way that, you chant something and it is amplified by some 200 times. Unbelievable knowledge of acoustics at work.

I imagined monks belonging to those bygone centuries walking around me, discussing Tripitakas. I suspected air there carried remnants of their sincere love for mankind!

Business Line : Opinion : ‘You are not really mining for your needs'

2011-09-14T00:09:00.000+05:30

Business Line : Opinion : ‘You are not really mining for your needs'

an unexpected guest!

2011-08-19T23:41:00.000+05:30

marvellous music

2011-08-16T17:05:00.000+05:30

music composers are the best of all creators. i always marvel at their capacity to imagine tunes that make our hearts dance with joy, some make us cry and others take us back to wonderful memories. As if they know all our intimate secrets. Some tunes haunt you forever and no matter how many times you listen to them, you will have the same intense experience.

How can they visualise world within of crores of people? They randomly pick instruments -- violin, flute, sitar, jalatarangini -- to express otherwise unexpressable feelings of heart. i must have heard, 'Tere bina zindagi, at least a thousand times, not once i felt bored. it is the same case with 'abhi na javo chodke' or 'voohalu gusagusa laade' or himagiri sogasuloo or kurisindi vaana.

the world would have been a lot poorer or a meaningless place but for their work.

turning nostalgic

2011-08-10T22:44:00.000+05:30

what began as a not-so-hopeful effort has turned out to be an exciting one. After over 25 overs, it is time for reunion of schoolmates. a list of 100 is ready now. some are living in the same place, others moved to different villages, towns and, why, countries too! a couple of them passed away too. some are doing well, others are not some get addicted to liquor, some had to put a full stop to education. some promising students then had succumbed to the vagaries of life and settled for far lesser things.
it is time to collect numbers, reminisce anecdotes -- humorous, serious, romantic or about those listless events went by. some you remember. some drag you to those past days with full of action, innocence.
trying to get back to those days gone by is really tricky. chances are, you might end up crying over split milk or cursing decisions that had changed lives forever!

Business Line : Opinion : Meaning of a ‘crop holiday' this kharif

2011-07-18T17:00:00.000+05:30

Business Line : Opinion : Meaning of a ‘crop holiday' this kharif

time to part ways with chicks

2011-05-29T12:41:00.001+05:30

My daughter's dictonary

2011-05-18T17:19:00.000+05:30

Sheffl -- Shelf
beevra -- beeruva (almaraiah)
Izag -- Vizag
Tung-leen -- tongue cleaner
Dhoolkat -- Cool drink
gimmies - Gems
Jayamma -- Jarudubanda (slide)

the two some

2011-05-04T00:21:00.000+05:30

Jumpy now has a companion

2011-05-03T16:14:00.000+05:30

A lot happened since I wrote on Jumpy, the chick. One day, it broke its right leg and spent the whole night in terrible pain. Not knowing what to do, we applied turmeric powder. I Googled that night and found some leads on vet hospitals. Aman said he would hold it as took it to a vet multi-specialty hospital. The doc initially thought of taking an X-Ray but settled for a cotton-bandage and gave it vitamin suppl and pain-killer. It took almost two weeks for it recoup, limping still though. But it became dull and would resign to a corner.
Something interesting happened. Our maid brought a two-day old yellow chick. You must see faces of Aman and Ala. They were literally jumping with joy. Jumpy, however, was skeptical initially and refused to accept Bowli (didn't know why, but Ala named it Bowli, the moment she saw it!). But that was momentary. She began to enjoy the newest member in the family and became active again!

Business Line : Features / Life : A city in love with a river

2011-04-22T10:03:00.000+05:30

Business Line : Features / Life : A city in love with a river

Cooing of Cuckoo

2011-04-14T20:23:00.000+05:30

It's not just smiles that are infectious. Good and pleasant moods too. This morning an unassuming, fellow walker in the park scented a cuckoo somewhere and provoked it by cooing. The cuckoo fell in the trap and started cooing. My fellow walker responded back by slightly increasing the pitch. Soon, a jugalbandhi began. Just under a minute, they brought a new meaning to the morning! What a way to start the day!

Business Line : Opinion : Sowing seeds of uncertainty

2011-04-13T14:09:00.000+05:30

Business Line : Opinion : Sowing seeds of uncertainty

statues, values

2011-03-15T13:11:00.000+05:30

when i posted in blog that Hyderabad was Jallianwala Bagh on March 10, some friends objected to it. they demanded an 'yes' or 'no' answer, whether or not i oppose felling of statues. certainly, it pained me but we should lament more for felling of those great values enunciated by them. The dead never wanted their statues to be set up. they, perhaps, would have liked had we respected and followed the legacies they left behind. we chose an easier way -- set up statues and rever them.

పతంజలి సంస్మరణ సభ

2011-03-11T22:54:00.001+05:30

ప్రముఖ జర్నలిస్టు, రచయిత పతంజలి మరణించి రెండేళ్లవుతుంది. ఇంతకు ముందెన్నడూ లేనంతగా పతంజలి లేని లోటు కనిపిస్తున్నది. సంక్షోభ సమయాల్లో జర్నలిస్టులు, రచయితలూ ఎలా ఉండాలో, ఎలాంటి రచనలు చెయ్యాలో, ఎవరి పక్షాన నిలబడాలో పతంజలి ఎన్నో సార్లు రుజువు చేసేరు.
ప్రజలకు ఎలాంటి షరతులూ లేని మద్దతు పలకాలని, అన్యాయం ఎక్కడున్నా మాటలు మింగకుండా ధైర్యంగా నిలబడి మాట్లాడాలని పతంజలి చేసి చూపించేరు.
పతంజలి జీవితాంతం నిలబడ్డ పాత్రికేయ, సాహిత్య విలువలను తలుచుకోవడానికి ఆయన మిత్రులు, అభిమానులు ఆదివారం (మార్చ్ 13 ) నాడు ప్రెస్ క్లబ్ (సోమాజిగూడ) లో సాయంత్రం 6 గంటలకు కలుసుకోవాలని అనుకున్నారు.
ఈ సందర్భంగా, పతంజలి వ్యక్తిత్వాన్ని, సాహిత్య, పాత్రికేయ ప్రపంచాన్ని ఆవిష్కరించే పుస్తకాన్ని విడుదల చేయనున్నారు.
పతంజలి రచనల్లోని, ఆయన ఇచ్చిన ఇంటర్వ్యూ లలోని కొన్ని భాగాల్ని చదివి వినిపిస్తారు.

jallianwala bagh, hyderabad

2011-03-10T13:25:00.002+05:30

Hyderabad is Jallianwala bagh today!

update on jumpy

2011-03-10T10:31:00.000+05:30

the new member in our family, jumpy, has accepted us as its kin. it treats me like a father and aman and ala, its siblings. it freely roams around in all rooms. last evening, aman, ala and their mother took it on walk. in the night, it protested when we put it in the open box. yelled for about 10 minutes, but went to soon the moment aman and ala slept. and it slept till 8 a.m.! aman jumped out of bed, took it out and continued playing with it. seems, kids in the apartments wanted their parents to buy chicks for them. life begets life!

a new member in the family!

2011-03-07T23:22:00.003+05:30

kids will never run out of ideas to create, recreate life! their presence is electrifying. this afternoon, i came back home for a short while. it was a calm afternoon. after a long drive, covering a very long event, i wanted to take a nap before going to office to file the report.
a dull, calm afternoon suddenly turned into a lively one with a lot of bustle around. my son, Aman, who's just back from school, received a surprise gift from his friend next door -- a chick! he has been longing for one. my daughter, Ala, too was jumping with joy. soon, the word spread and all the kids in the apartments joined the revelry. my son named it 'Jumpy' as it was constantly jumping around. Ala wondered whether she would call it 'Kampy' and asked her mother to get some food to feed the chick.
one kid yelled, another laughed. there was uproar. all my tiredness was gone! i took out my Nikon and shot some quick pictures.
now, after coming back from work i found the kids sleeping. seems they were so tired, playing with the new family member. the chick soon found a friend in Aman and follows him where ever he goes. the tiny chick, which was sleeping when i entered home, suddenly woke up and made all sorts of noise, perhaps to announce her presence. for half-an-hour it was continuously yelling.
i googled for some info on how to rear chicks. some one suggested we should talk to them. i held it in my hands, talked to him and gave it some water and a few grains of rice. seems, it's contended. it jumped into its cosy box, tucked its head into a corner and sleeping!

subtle messages

2011-03-06T14:54:00.001+05:30

Yesterday, we set up a make-shift home for our kids in the bedroom by hanging a blanket on the wall and tucking the other end under the mattress. They invited their friends and spent the whole day there. My two-year-old daughter liked the idea very much. She took a couple of pillows to sleep all her 'kids' -- the jessi, missie, barbie, doraemon and small-gown papa. This morning, she literally forced me to visit her home. I had to crawl to get into her home. She was all smiles. She, then, introduced her 'kids' to me and forced me to hold two of them. She said they were crying for something. My duty was to console them.
Kids are masters of conveying messages. They expect us to cajole them and not to shout at them when they want something. Only, we don't have time to understand subtle messages.

Matchless love

2011-03-04T17:47:00.002+05:30

My lil one is so happy to see me every evening coming back from work. She dances, jumps, runs, smiles with her eyes, sings and utters strange sounds. And then she comes to me with lots of anticipation. What does she expect? A hug, a kiss, a pat on her head, a chocolate or an explanation for coming late? I do not exactly know.
I hug, kiss, hold her hand and talk to her asking several questions to understand whether I should do something more to match her love. I always lose. And she never minds it. Next day, she would repeat this as if she appreciates my limitations!

magic real life

2011-02-25T19:37:00.005+05:30

reporters lead a strange, weird life. couple of hours at a riot, a book release an hour later, an evening with bryan adams and covering a drab speech of a good-for-nothing politician!
in urdu, they say 'na ghar ka, na ghat ka' (he belongs to nowhere).
they have time for everyone and everything barring family!

spell it right

2011-02-24T14:34:00.001+05:30

my two-year old daughter scolded me this morning for spelling 'tongue cleaner' wrong.
"it should be tung - lean not tongue cleaner," she says.
she even demonstrated how the tongue and lips should move as we spell it!

rearview

2011-02-23T23:06:00.001+05:30

i never bothered to use the mirror when i drove the two-wheeler for six years. it is only when i bought car, i realised the importance of a rear view mirror. you need to have a glance in the rear-view mirror now and then to check whether you could negotiated the road well. but you can't afford to latch on to the rear-view mirror. but in life, you slip into rear view and it is very difficult to come to terms with reality some times.

the art of driving, living

2011-02-20T23:35:00.003+05:30

learning driving was not that difficult. i had an early advice from a friend -- driving is not about speed and applying brakes. It is all about managing distances! with him as a pillion, i hit a bus from behind, unable to calculate his speed. All you have to do is to ascertain the speeds of other vehicles and positing your own accordingly.
Life in a way is akin to driving. life is all about managing relationships. just like you keep off the bumpy roads, keep off those relationships which always leave you bitter.

On a rainy day!

2010-06-07T18:35:00.002+05:30

On a rainy day!, originally uploaded by wanderlust2000.

It was a great day near Tienanmen Square in Beijing recently. Though it spoiled all of our plans, we had a wonderful afternoon in the rain.

Photo 18

2010-06-02T09:22:00.001+05:30

Photo 18, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

a very early bird set off for the day's journey.

Courtship

2010-05-28T19:21:00.001+05:30

Courtship, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

Morning treat!

2010-05-27T00:14:00.001+05:30

Morning treat!, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

light does tricks in the morning. It brings grace and colour along!

Standing tall

2010-05-25T09:16:00.001+05:30

Standing tall, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

the magnificent Charminar at the dawn.

Shades of a dream!

2010-05-23T23:49:00.001+05:30

Shades of a dream!, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

Had an eyeful of nature's beauty standing on the Great Wall at Badaling in China.

Courtship

2010-05-22T00:13:00.001+05:30

Courtship, originally uploaded by Wanderlust2000.

my Nikon

నాకిష్టంలేదు

2010-02-27T18:53:00.000+05:30

రాజులు, రారాజులు బతికి మనల్ని చంపుతారు. మనల్ని చంపుతూ బతుకుతారు. అందుచేత రాజులు బతకడం నాకిష్టంలేదు.
-- రావి శాస్త్రి

The man who sacrificed his life for human rights

2009-10-09T00:04:00.002+05:30

Balagopal passed away. Great loss to India, human rights. He dared to speak truth, always.

Hide...

2009-10-05T00:06:00.002+05:30

.....seek!

2009-10-04T23:54:00.000+05:30

Watching kids grow!

2009-10-04T15:44:00.000+05:30

Watching kids grow is a beautiful experience. The things they learn, the tricks they play, the love they show and the anger they express...all so great moments to experience. They look at people so keenly as if they want to understand their feelings inside out. Their watchful eyes don't miss a speck. They pick a speck, an ant, with their two tiny fingers, bring it very close to their eyes. Nine out of ten times, they couldn't hazard a guess. So, they immediately put it in their mouth to feel it better! Unlike us, the elders who generally don't have an eye for details, they use all their sensory organs to understand things, people. For, they have a whole lot of world to know and understand!

చిన్నారీ మా పాపా

2009-10-01T17:28:00.006+05:30

చిన్నారీ మా పాపావెన్నేలా దీపాలూ
బంగారూ మా తల్లీ మీగడా తరగల్లూ
మా పాపా చూపుల్లూ వెలుగూలా చుక్కల్లూ
మా పాపా నవ్వులూ తొలకరీ జల్లులూ

మా నాన్నా పిలుపూలూ మా గుండె చప్పుళ్ళూ
మా తల్లీ పలుకూలూ పంచదార చిలకలూ

చిన్నారీ ఆటలూ చిలకల్లా పాటలూ
మా పాపా ఊసులూ గువ్వలా సవ్వడులూ

చిన్నమ్మా కన్నీళ్ళూమెఘాలా రగాలూ
నిద్దర్లో నవ్వులూ కలలా పొదోటలూ

కల, పాట,కొన్ని అలలు

2009-10-01T15:30:00.002+05:30

నేను
కల కంటున్నట్టు
నేను
అలల చెంత వున్నట్టు
నేను
గొప్ప పాట వింటున్నట్టు
నా
భుజమ్మీద అల

Link to: The Boat Made of Moonlight

2007-12-03T13:34:00.000+05:30

Read my story at my blog. here's the link http://kurmanath.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/12/the-boat-made-of-moonlight.htm warm

Breaking up

2007-10-31T17:02:00.000+05:30

Why relationships break up? People love each other for years. They spend hours together, discussing the whole world. They give their best -- love and time. But what actually makes people snap their ties? Will life be the same? Or, they have to live with that void for the rest of their lives?

Living nightmare

2007-08-20T19:04:00.000+05:30

Friends, here's the short story that appeared in 'The Statesman' on July 1. The link I posted a few weeks ago is not working.

ooo

It took a while before I could feel the others’ presence. I could not see them, but they were whispering. I could not gather what they were talking about. Some voices were familiar. It gave me some solace. “I’m not alone. I’ve got some company,” I thought, though I didn’t who they were. It took a while before I could feel the others’ presence. I could not see them, but they were whispering. I could not gather what they were talking about. After covering the VVIP’s visit to the drought-hit areas for two days I’m completely drained of energy. True, getting Page One slots for the reports on the famine and the VVIP’s promises was gratifying. But I wanted to take a compensatory off the following day. I deserved it, I thought. But my boss said I had to file an analysis of the high-profile visit that assured abundant water to parched areas, which were becoming virtual graveyards.There was no escape. He would have the last laugh. I had to oblige. It might be tough selling ice to an Eskimo. But the VVIP was a seasoned politician. He knew well what would appeal to the villagers, hit hard by the famine. We, the reporters, knew what he was up to. But our hands were tied. We knew what to write and what not to. We were supposed to sell his dreams, and save the nightmares for ourselves.After filing stories on wonderful dreams of water and imminent riches, I reached home at the midnight. My wife told me the child had waited for me all the evening before going to bed. “You should have come home early. He was expecting you to get him the Red Ranger wristband you promised him,” she said.I didn’t utter a word. I showered, ate my dinner and laid beside him and drew him close to me. I said I was sorry and kissed him on his cheeks. I knew quite well he would very happy, when he saw me sleeping next to him in the morning.I too fell asleep a while later. Soon I slipped into a dream, or rather a nightmare. One that still haunts as I narrate it. It was about darkness. Stark darkness. I could not recollect whether I fell into that seemingly endless, infinite pit accidentally or if someone threw me into it.Was it a trap? Or did I commit suicide, falling slowly into perpetual sleep? I could not recollect whether I was standing still or was falling down the deepest of chasms. Or was I floating in a sea of darkness? The vastness and invincibility of the darkness sent a chill down my spine. Or was it where I have been living all these years?Profusely sweating, I thought I would never come out and see light again. It seemed to me I was condemned to live there forever, a thought that frightened me. Then it occurred to me if I was suffering this torment all alone. But what about the others? My wife, son, parents, friends — where were they?It took a while before I could feel the others’ presence. I could not see them, but they were whispering. I could not gather what they were talking about. Some voices were familiar. It gave me some solace. “I’m not alone. I’ve got some company,” I thought, though I didn’t who they were.But I wondered whether they were aware of my presence at all. I tried to say something. A muffled voice prevented me, saying “Sshh! Don’t talk.” I recognised the voice. It was my wife!Perhaps it was animal instinct — a warning about lurking danger. I didn’t utter a word. But it didn’t help me. It only added to my confusion and fears. Was something serious happening? I didn’t know what to do. Should I shout for help? Should I talk to my wife and neighbours? It seemed they were aware of the problem.Someone was saying, “I’ll talk to the Minister tomorrow. Take it from me, I’ll make them weep for what they have done to us. I won’t leave them alone.” Yes, it was my neighbour. He was dropping names.But I had no clue what was happening. I didn’t know what how long I would continue to suffer. It suddenly occurred to me that I had been living there for ages.That idea did no good. I sank further.After some time, still in the darkness, I could identify the faces of people I knew. But there were some figures darker than the darkness. Soon I noticed that the others were listening to the grotesque figures. I, too, started listening.The gigantic figures, moved in menacingly, yelled, “There will be light. There will be light. Don’t listen to those who talk of darkness. There will be water. There will be water. Don’t believe those who talk of parched land. There will be food and gold all over.”I saw tears rolling down the cheeks of some people. But I could not make out whether they were tears of sadness or joy. The voices around me were whispering. Hurling abuse. But I could not understand whether they were abusing themselves or cursing others. Instinctively I drew my scribbling pad from my back pocket and started jotting down the promises, as the pitter-patter of rain turned into a shower, drenching us. We were all wet. But I managed to note down the points with a ballpoint pen. I had got enough forthe story, it would probably go on Page 1, with the headline “Leaders assure light, water, food and gold”.There were howls coming from all around me. The protests too there must have been there. But they were simply washed over in that uproar. It seemed there was no end to that commotion. My son’s voice dragged me out of the dream. “Get up. Get up father,” he shook me, because he wanted to be out there in the thick of the action.“The municipal tanker has arrived. There was no power last night. The kid was crying all the night and you didn’t give a damn.You were sleeping like a log,” my wife screamed at me.Without saying a word, I ran out holding a plastic can. It was a free-for-all. People were shouting at each other, calling names. I had to join them.

Different ways of looking at the world!

2007-08-17T17:44:00.000+05:30

I took this photograph at my son's annual sports day. After taking a print, I realised that none of the kids looking at one direction. They have their own way of looking at things. It's we, the elders, who try to discipline them and mould their outlook. Isn't it?

2007-07-07T12:35:00.000+05:30

hi friends,
The Eight Day, the Sunday supplement of The Statesman daily carried by short story on July 1. Though I have some25 stories to my credit in Telugu, this is my first attempt in English. Here's the link
http://www.thestatesman.net/page.news.php?clid=30&theme=&usrsess=1&id=161321

Living chaos

2007-03-01T16:03:00.000+05:30

See everyday thousands of people going in buses, cars, trains, autos and on two-wheelers -- caught in traffic hold-ups, abusing one another, ending up in hospitals. All the chaos would pause at times to make way for VIPs -- the men in hurry to serve us! The moment the VIPs zip fast, the chaos reins, again. Wonder whether the people follow this set pattern everyday, or they themselves form the pattern untiringly.

Latent master pieces

2006-10-20T16:20:00.000+05:30

Don't despair too much if you see beautiful things destroyed, if you see them perish. Because the best things are always growing in secret... The unseen things are our master pieces. What would seem like victory would be a defeat. What would seem like defeat would be a victory, an eternal victory of light. -Ben Okri

Art of listening

2006-10-14T11:28:00.000+05:30

The best conversations are those when she listens to what you're not saying, says a hoarding.

Poisonous stories

2006-10-03T18:58:00.000+05:30

To poison a nation, poison its stories. A demoralised nation tells demoralised stories to itself. -Ben Okri

Watery grave

2006-09-16T16:46:00.000+05:30

I had a dream, rather a nightmare, the other day. It still haunts. It was about darkness. I was in a deep pit of darkness. Or, it looked like one. I could not recollect whether I was standing still or I was falling down. The infinity of darkness sent a chill down my spine. I didn't know how long or short I was there. But it seemed I was condemned to live there forever.
It took a while before I could feel the presence of others. I could not see them but they were whispering their fears. Some voices were familiar. I wondered whether they were aware of my presence. I said something and sounds of "..ssshhh" silenced me. I didn't know how long should I suffer the torment. It occured to me I had been living there for ages. That idea did no good. I sank further.
After some time, still in the darkness, I could identify the faces of people I knew. But there were some figures darker than the darkness. Soon I noticed that the others are listening to the grotesque figures. I, too, started listening.
The gigantic figures, moving in odd movements, were yelling, ''There will be light. There will be light. Don't listen to those who talk of darkness. There will be water. Don't believe those who talk of parched lands. There will be food and gold all over."
The voices around me were whispering, hurling abuses. I, however, could not guess whether they were abusing others or cursing themselves. But instinctively I drew my scribbling pad from my back pocket and started jotting down the promises, now beginning to pour. We are all wet. But I managed to note down the points. I had got enough for the story, probably would go on Page 1, with the headline 'Leaders assure light, water, food and gold'.
There were howls of voices all over. Protests too must have mixed in that uproar. It seemed there was no end for that commotion. I was dragged out of the dream by my wife. "Get up. The tanker has arrived. Go and fetch water. There was no power last night. The kid was crying all the night and you cared a damn," she shouted at me.
Not saying a word, I ran out holding a plastic can. It was a dommi. People were shouting at one another, hurling abuses and calling names. I had to join that.

time, tiger and fire

2006-08-29T13:39:00.000+05:30

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.

Jorge Luis Borges

Dreaming alone, aloud

2006-07-16T21:22:00.000+05:30

(pic courtesy: lovethosekids.com)

Loving flowers

2006-07-14T18:12:00.000+05:30

She discovered with great delight that one does not love one's children just because they are one's children but because of the friendship formed while raising them. -- Marquez

Thinking hurt

2006-07-11T18:19:00.000+05:30

I hurt a friend. Or, my friend hurt me. I could never figure out who hurt whom. When I'm down and licking the wounds, I feel that it was my friend's fault. But when I'm doing good and on cloud nine, it seems it was my fault. Did I or didn't I -- the question torments and subsides only to surface at a vulnerable moment. It hurt, it hurts, either way.

Painting water and fish

2006-07-05T11:33:00.000+05:30

My three-and-half-year-old son seems to have nursing a dream of becoming an artist. He would come to me with his small box of water colours and brush and ask me to fetch him a bowl of water and a notebook. This morning, he repeated this request and I obliged (I have to). After sometime, I saw water all over the page with a few strokes of blue. I scolded him for spoiling the notebook. "Father, this is a painting of a water tank. Don't you know, water tank contains water," he replied. This is not all. He, then, asked me to paint fish. I opened another page and drew a couple of fish. He protested saying, "Father, you should paint the fish in the tank. They can't survive out of water."

Densely occupied

2006-07-04T15:13:00.000+05:30

Life is densely occupied, this is a sentence Brecht liked very much.

The sad little angel

2006-06-28T10:11:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time there was a mother whose only child died. She cried for it unceasingly. Once she was out in the field and crying again. Suddenly she saw an entire band of lovely angels flying above her, all of them young and beautiful, all of them happy and cheerful. Then the mother thought, "Oh, if only my child were also such a little angel!" And she looked to see if she could not find her child in the band. But she could not see it.
Then from behind there came a little angel. It was very sad and was carrying a heavy black jug in its little hands. It was the mother's child.
The mother asked, "My child, why are you not with the happy little angels?"
"Mother," it said, "as long as you are crying I must collect your tears and cannot be happy like the others."
From that hour forth the mother cried no more.

Cloudy sky

2006-06-26T17:17:00.000+05:30

Rains seem to elude. Skies are cloudy, open up rarely. But there is no reprieve for mothers, they have been crying all over. Yet another kid died, this time due to the negligent doctor. At least one kid gets killed every day. A kid run over by a lorry, father cutting the third daughter into pieces, a kid raped by a neigbhour, negligent doctor letting an ill child die. It seems to me, all mothers secretly dread in their sleep, living in nightmares of untold, impending accidents. Fathers, too, breathe fears, sniffing at probable dangers that his child might encounter. The other day, my son lost control and fell into the well in the backyard -- in a nightmare. I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night, sweating profusely. But , for mothers it is still more difficult. They can empathise with other mothers. So, they are more worried. Seems, some unknown force is out on the prowl, crushing the buds. Kids are being run over by vehicles, swallowed by manholes and succumbed by brainfever and malaria. The Government blames the officials, officials blame the school managements, school managements pass the buck on to the traffic cops, traffic cops show their finger at auto drivers and hooligans who steal manhole lids. It is fathers and mothers of the dead and living kids that suffer. Who cares? Secretly, I wish I could go to all those houses and console the kin, take my son there and let them play with him for some time.

Of flowers of dreams

2006-06-25T16:02:00.000+05:30

“Only those who truly love and who are truly strong can sustain their lives as a dream. You dwell in your own enchantment. Life throws stones at you, but your love and your dream change those stones into the flowers of discovery. Even if you lose, or are defeated by things, your triumph will always be exemplary. And if no one knows it, then there are places that do. People like you enrich the dreams of the worlds, and it is dreams that create history. People like you are unknowing transformers of things, protected by your own fairy-tale, by love.”
- Ben Okri