And it’s November

Self-explanatory, don’t you think?

I am becoming really unoriginal with my titles, aren’t I, when in reality the name of a good chapter really excites me, the quirkier the better. One of the first things I do when I get a book (after checking it has the requisite number of pages, you laugh but one can’t be too careful, I have suffered greatly in the past), is take a good look at the contents. To say I am disappointed when there’s no contents page, and worse the chapters are just named 1, 2, 3, 4 would be an understatement! Jasper Fforde has completely spoilt me. I spent a large part of my day lost in a good book (and chuckling to myself), which has chapters like Five coincidences, seven Irma Cohens and one confused Thursday Next.

Looking warily at me as if to say quit staring

A day of rest (mostly) when it rains like the world will end, with animals (the pigeons in my gully, and the garden lizard who temporarily seeks refuge in my window) for company, and me being completely content not opening my mouth (screaming inwardly in agony doesn’t count). Is this a trailer of how my old age is going to be? I am suitably numb from the painkiller I took after lunch, which allows to me write this, so I don’t miss another month. Sigh, I missed even my one update a month rule. Something substantial, something weighty I’ll post I think, and then I end up putting stuff (something half-baked?) on Instagram, a platform which I’m beginning to get disillusioned with. No, I haven’t been neglecting the blog, for what it would appear, a few paltry likes on the gram but for the community (and the ease because it’s been a while) and, of course, the instant gratification it offers. The friendships, the mateships I have built there, and how comfortable I am with them, is also what keeps me going back though I am yet to find a way to navigate the new world of reels. I’d better get cracking or get happy being irrelevant.

Intelligent design and evolution

How do you explain to a ten year old that there is no God when asked how did the first human originate without telling them about evolution because she does not know what the word means?

I told her it happened by itself. There is no intelligent design and no sentient God, and so he didn’t create the first human. We evolved from other primates (okay I used the word monkeys). Of course she didn’t understand. If adults have a problem understanding evolution and say that it was intelligent design, how can a little child understand the concept.

She asked me if there is no god why are there so many temples and why do so many people worship them? I said people do it to to placate themselves if they have done something wrong. It is something that gives them hope or rather sells them hope and grants them peace of mind  letting them believe that everything will work out in the end. What I didn’t say – it is also a way of absolving responsibility and laying it at the feet of God since he controls the universe (even a leaf won’t budge without his permission). The world was not created by God but rather man created another man (typical) and designated him as the creator. Of course the Hindu pantheneon has 330 million gods and godesses (no I don’t know their names).

I had never been the one to follow rituals just for the sake of following it. I have always asked why how what where to the annoyance of my parents and relatives. I refuse to follow rituals just for the sake of following it to appease someone beyond my reach, who may or may not exist.

I hadn’t always been an atheist; I believed in a God which I had never seen or heard (thanks to my upbringing), who would come to my rescue when the need arose. But now I believe in the power of the universe. I believe that mother nature is superior to all.

Religion failed me in the darkest parts of my life. The parts of my life when I needed hope to stay afloat and I couldn’t find solace in religion. I found strength in myself and it was the people who loved me that helped me see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Wanting to be saved

A Coldplay kind of day today, and when Death and All His Friends come to your rescue, you listen. It was not all​ Yellow not by a long stretch but​ blue and no one will bleed for you or die trying except perhaps your family (their job description since the day you were born) and a few close friends (if you are lucky).  So what are you cribbing about, you ungrateful wretch. Get over yourself. Live, thrive, survive (whatever suits you). No one can Fix You except you.

No I don’t want to battle from beginning to end
I don’t want a cycle of recycled revenge

It’s like I ​heard the song for the first time. For a long time the song was misnamed in my playlist as Lovers in Japan. Isn’t it amazing how a song will be whatever you want it to be in that moment – romantic, cathartic, healing, inspiring and so much more.

Sometimes a song saves you. The memories associated with it, the lyrics or the music itself (words become superfluous and it is the rhythm which carries you through).

​Watching This is Us brought Mandy Moore back into my life. For me Mandy Moores’s Cry is not about the lyrics but about nostalgia for me. It is about a bygone era when me and my friends used to read Nicholas Sparks (oh the horror). Now if I see A Walk to Remember (a fate comparable to being inside an MRI machine) I will definitely sob but it will be due to laughing hard and snorting at the dialogues. Thank god we grew up. Idealism has no place in the life of old people. (No, don’t tell me 30 is the new 20!) Youth and idealism go together just fine, complementing each other in envisioning a better future full of realized dreams, lost opportunities nowhere on the horizon and the harsh truth yet to dawn. The blinders come off eventually, either voluntarily or forcefully.

Sometimes humour saves you. Satire, sarcasm, nonsense, black – all shades of humour. Your sense of humour is the most important thing about you, so keep it close and try your best not to lose it in the chaos that is everyday life, unless you live on one of many moons of Jupiter. It might desert you and vanish from time to time but prepare a grand welcome when it reappears.

In between worlds

Pondering on what is real and what is not while rains lash on,when I’m neither asleep nor awake but in a world in between, in a dream like haze.

I’m steering back and forth 
between 
a dream filled reality
or sleep  
I know not. 
The rain has stopped 
but the growling thunder 
is a sign 
of what is to come. 
A gentle cool breeze 
is coming through the open window 
along with a fine spray.
The house is plunged into darkness 
the power as unreliable 
as the weather forecast. 
I only realize the true value 
of something 
when it is no longer within my grasp.
That is when I want to come back 
the bridge burnt
and the leap can’t be taken.
I listen to the birds gaily chirping 
in spite of the constant growling thunder.
A plane flew by desperate to land 
before the rain descends again. 
When the light comes 
I find its glare too harsh 
having been comforted by darkness
I have made my peace with it. 
I maybe afraid of it
but it has become my friend. 

Where’s the moon

 

Whenever I see the moon, especially the full moon I’m reminded of the poem Silver by Sir Walter de la Mare.  It was one of the early poems I remember reciting and loving. Mrs. Irene Kapoor( I. Kapoor miss to us), our English teacher had interpreted it so nicely.

I felt the poet in me stirring and  came up with this. I have decided I will post my poems however idiotic they might be. After all I have got only  this life to live, so I might as well live without any inhibitions. Better to be embarrassed and laughed at  than to live out my days as a coward. I might as well get on with it. Cheers !

 

The moon is full and bright,

I look at it wistfully

with dreams in my eyes.

 

I wish I could stare into the eyes of a loved one,

and see the moon light reflected in its shadowy depths.

 

The yellow moon with grey scars on its face,

vibrating and pulsating like a living thing,

reminding me of my heart pumping along for dear life.

 

Overflowing with feelings,

with joys and sorrows,

radiating and shining forth,

showing others silvery light,

itself burning bright.

 

Ah the moon’s bright tonight,

so bright it hurts my eyes.

Tears spring forth free and fast,

it’s so heartbreakingly beautiful,

 that I cry.

We are April people

I am really fond of the month April, not because I was born in April. There are many things about April that I like. Like the lyrical and sweet sound it produces when you roll your tongue and say it, Apprilll.

The weather is sunshiney without being brutal. Clear days with bobbing white clouds, blue skies,  starry nights filled with twinkling stars,trees filling with tender green leaves, the scent of  mango blossoms in the air and the promise of ripe mangoes in the near future.

Vestiges of spring are still there and summer hasn’t yet begun, it’s the best time to be outdoors and be merry. The lovely wind, the whispering trees, everything feels so cheerful.Vibrant hues everywhere.When you cycle slowly through meandering roads, absorbing the calmness round you, everything is abuzz with a quiet excitement. You can almost hear a hum if you listen just right.

It’s almost infectious, you can’t help but feel jubilant and for no apparent reason. That’s when I thank God I’m alive because I feel alive. To feel alive is the greatest feeling,no words can describe that feeling of quiet contentment emanating from within.

Ah the school days, the anticipation of the all things to come in the vacation ahead. So many life enriching things to do, places to visit, people to discover, games to invent, story books to read. Almost a never ending list of things to do.

I remember the days, when flying high on a swing felt like a slice of heaven, playing hide and seek in the buildings around, jumping from trees an act of bravura and helping people do their homework an act of greatest goodwill and sacrifice.

April has always signified a time for new beginnings. The new class in the school year started in April bringing with it a sense of adventure and excitement, of shared joys and sorrows, sharing tiffins and lives, playing hopscotch and land and water, of having a favourite teacher and getting a good word from her making your day, crying over silly things like losing a pencil box your best friend had gifted or somebody not inviting you to their birthday party. No competition just blissful coexistence.That was life.The good old days.

Good things always come to an end but while they lasted  memories were created for a lifetime, which can be retrieved at will and even gone back  to whenever the need  arises. An attack of nostalgia is always good. A time machine would have been even better but I live in the real world so I have to take what I can get.

For me April signifies all is that good in life in the truest sense of the word.
Ergo, April is life.