Where Time Stands Still

So important yet so unpopular, the junk yards, or normally referred to as storerooms in India, have always been placed in the back of the households to stock away loads of unused, unwanted stuff. The belongings that were personal once, a thing to brag of... and then they lost all their charm to be dumped in the dingy dark spaces of the world. The junk would now see the light only through the dusty creaky hinges that the door can manage for its inhabitants.

Visit the attic or the junk heaps in the basement or a garage and you would find old pieces of furniture that would shriek in ghostly creaking sounds the moment you touch it. You might also find some old tattered clothes that might look centuries old against the latest fashionable ones that you wear. Those might be the ones you once wore, or if you are lucky enough to find some classic style granny's dresses, these would tempt you to try them on. Careful, the inhabitants for sure also include rats and spiders with their cobwebs.

I remember in the good old days on a summery hot afternoon I would rather find solace in these dank spots of the house. Away from all the care, I would feel a part of the trash — it was like the whole world has forgotten you, such a relaxed feeling... leaving behind all the grasping expectations, I would let loose my imagination, trying to make up something of the whole chaos. This was my world for the moment! The world of no order, no sequence, no discipline, no boundaries — a world without motion, a world so stock-still that even the timepiece stashed away in one corner of the room had lost its pace with time. It felt absolutely timeless in this place.

Hiding from the all the chores Mom had planned for me during the vacations, sitting on top of the age old furniture in the storeroom, I would contentedly read my favorite detective titles of the times. Sometimes while rummaging through the clutter, I would find some long lost plaything, a trunk full of colorful quilts or a broken doll house. The things that we did not want anymore were brought in here, but these were the proof of our existence, symbols of our growth. Of course we dint need them anymore, but these were something we couldn't part away with. So, here lies the collection of mementos very well conserved under the layers of dust and this adds an enigma to the surroundings, calling to revisit and peep into the past.

Magical Moments

Captured at sunset, Ulsoor Lake, Bangalore

Growing Up

Well that might sound not-too-smart but I am all abuzz to share that I was on my own for a whole day, for the first time in my life!!! Now beat this, I love adventure. Never even hesitated once jumping off a cliff to set off for a flight while paragliding for the first time. Never had a hitch to look an untamed tiger in its eye. You can very well try it in a zoo, but not on a real jungle safari where nothing separates you from the tiger staring from a distance of just 10 meters. (I dared to do that as I was mounted on an elephant and was considerably out of reach for the tiger). You know that rush of adrenaline..., will simply do anything for it.

A positive belief in paranormal stuff and a fear of the unknown, unexplainable would keep me up even if I tried to sleep alone at home in dark (also known nyctophobia). It wasn't that bad after all. The only difference this time was the excitement of having proved myself self-sufficient kept me up most of the time. Never mind, the sense of accomplishment at having overpowered my fear is what matters at the end of the day (night in this case). As this is rightly quoted in the Litany of Fear

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

— Frank Herbert

I just heard of a well-heeled family being in financial crunch. Unfortunately they lost all money in the recent tumble of the share market, as many people must have, but all would not set out to get their son married, to a girl from a decent family, just to recover their financial position. Imagine the condition of the bride's father when he would find out that the family doesn't have a penny to spend for his beloved daughter's petty existence, let alone afford the luxuries of such a spoiled brat who dint even care to make herself self-reliant enough to earn her basic amenities. Fancy that!

Its hard to imagine the amount of destruction this would cause to the dreams of the girl who's been brought up with just one motive — to get married off to a rich fart. The girl was being dolled up, dressed up to find a good catch and this very big day of her life. Marriages getting overt importance in India, you can see girls going ga-ga about their qualities at various occasions. The highly polished marketing skills you get to see in an Indian martimony bazaar might sweep you off the floor, if you have not yet been face-to-face with such a situation.

But, what I fail to understand in this case is, what is the limit to which they can fake to get their son married off to this girl. How do they plan to support her then? Its pretty clear that they are fishing for the big salmon which is going to feed them for now. For God's sake, doesn't the fact that they are using their own son as a bait, hit their nerve? And how long do they think, they can survive on this catch. Will they again scheme something cruel as this? For shame!

The so called NXT generation has totally lost a connect with what is happening around. The system today doesn't feel the need to educate them on age-old rituals, whether those are right or wrong, as we think we are generations away from this hypocrisy and would never again have to face it. One must know that these baneful things are still being practiced around us.

This incidence is not from some history book. It happens, still happens in our neighborhood, in a metro, in a posh locality. The bias and evil customs still follow us in the urban culture, on the roads, in the pubs, silently watching to clutch-hold the next innocent fellow in its talons.

A Bonding

For never letting my roots lose the ground, I still remember being a kid who always wanted support for all petty chores. I know, I was a feeble baby once which was showered with all care and love needed. It was my mom and dad who were more than happy to look after me and feed me then.

They were the ones who taught me to nibble, to talk, to walk. Just like a mother goose, they showed us the way, sharpening our sense of direction. They always acted as mentors and as friends preparing their off-springs for the flight. They would hold on to the bicycle till they were confident enough to let it go. They would jog with us on the morning walks, keeping an eye unless we fall and hurt ourselves. They were always ready to take us under their wings through the emotional traumatic teenage years, which were so full of concern. On and on they made us realize and feel this special bond. The comfort of sharing all odds, the warmth in each others' presence. The bond of being in a family.

I am strong, grown up, independent. I can find my feed. Yet when in a crowded party, my mind always scans for that familiarity in faces. When in pain, I know just which pain killer would help, but the heart seeks the same attention and affection. Young and energetic I can fly high, but I keep coming back to my nest and I find them waiting for the reunion.

Up and Down the Memory Lane

Growing nostalgic about things. I remember coming back from school in the mid afternoon, soaking as much sun as possible. Back then, sun burns and tan were the least of my concerns. Lugging the books on our back, exhausted by our sessions in the school, we still had the energy to chirp, gossip and pace the distance back home.

The warmth of home and the union with ever so caring family, after all the childish squabble, would seem more than welcome. The same lane we walked the way to school, looked more cheerful and bright after school. (Now, this doesn't mean, I hated going to school) It was a Gulmohar tree on the way that attracted my attention. It would bloom with fiery red flowers, sometimes heavily laden with that. The tree would offer a span of aromatic shadow that would offer a moment of relief under the sun. Reaching the tree, we would cheerfully empty our water bottles, gurgling it nonstop down our throat. Then we would pick some flowers appeciating the shades of red, orange and yellow, watching those carefully and then playing with its anthers, we would normally proceed with the relaxed baby steps towards our home.

In our childsize world, the Gulmohar was just another milestone we would pass, on our short journey to our respectives homes. It was this time when I was pacing the same path, did I realize the lack of the cool shade. The tree was not there! The tree that had seen us growing each day. The tree that had rendered moments of fun to our journey for years. A thing of beauty, in sun, it was. The sad part is, its already gone. Before even we could realize its importance in our life.

The Onset of Summer

This is what I felt yesterday evening when I went out to take a stroll. Being a nature lover, I am quite often inspired by nature to write and express my feelings in words. Walking past the rustling leaves lying in stacks, I could see that a lot of trees have unloaded themselves off the old stuff. A few still look happy getting rid of whatever left. This is what autumn seems like in India (at least in Bangalore, which is rich in flora). And here, autumn is just the beginning of summer, which marks a new beginning.

Its a much relief to me as, having all sorts of breathing problems, inhaling the cold air is a constant exercise in winters. The air is much lighter and easy to breathe. Sounds are clearer and the aromas in the air more pronounced. It tastes and smells 'lukewarm' as much as it feels one. The chirping sounds of kids running around, sound like they have just been released from some spell. Suddenly the place seems full of life. Warmth marks life. Cold is stone. Summer is welcome...