Schrödinger’s cat

Not all names are stored

in your memory

They glide in orbit in distant galaxies

alongside a gaseous planet

revolving around a dwarfing star

I know cause I retrieved one such name

weeks after I met him at a restaurant

and had to make do with names like bro and dost

On my facebook wall

I see a friend request

For the fear of it collapsing

Into a definite state, I scroll away

Am I responsible for every thing

happening around me

Not sure if I should Observe and

bring upon the death of

Schrödinger’s cat

I kill the page

अनवरत

जो भी लड़ा मेरे लिए
दुश्‍मनों से जा मिला
साथ में मेरी अधजली
रोटी भी ले गया

सदीयान बीत चुकी
अब मन करता है
नियती को मान ही लूँ

पेट से आई मानसी
दबी आवाज़ में कराह रही है
और कोने में रखी
चुराई हुई खाकी बंदूक
दिए की लौ में चमक रही है

कल पौ फटने पर
एक बार फिर कोशिश करूँगा
लकिरें बदलने की, एक पूरी रोटी की

Lost Elements

Like the view
that was lost in the journey

Like the wave
that was lost in the tide

Like the speck
that was lost in the storm

Like the dew drop
that was lost in the first rays

Like the love
that was lost in promises

Was the life
that was lost in living.

Dissolving Drishya

A sage who had retired to the hills since many decades was once cajoled by his disciples to come down and experience the plains. One of the disciples was the probing kind; he was well read, intelligent, and full of rationale. When Swamiji reached the city, the disciple managed to convince him for an outing to a multiplex, very reluctantly though. The movie was a typical bollywood potboiler filled with every conceivable emotion on earth. Swamiji sat through the entire movie unflinchingly. At the end of the movie, as every one tried to make way towards the exit, the disciple asked, “What was the experience like, Swamiji?”

Swamiji replied, “As long as there was darkness there was love, hate, sadness, laughter, violence, and lust, but all of it dissolved the moment there was light." That was all he saw.

Are we learning?

It’s exam time once again and various education boards have established counseling centers for students who are almost on the verge of splitting vertically.
We live in very strange times and stranger still are our total acceptability of the ills and apathy towards them.

The failure of a student indicates the following

1) The failure of the framework which considers X amount of learning to be done in Y amount of time as success.
2) The failure of content developers who are not able to put forward knowledge in a form which is all inclusive.
3) The failure of the delivery mechanism wherein the actors involved are unable to inspire and motivate learners towards learning
4) The failure of parents who are not ready to work together with the child towards identification of their special gifts and aptitude.

….in fact everything except the failure of the student. While all of us are amidst this gold rush for seats in engineering, medicine and finance what we tend to forget is that these positions merely apply existing knowledge and are at best resource exploiters; history has shown us that the true masters of Science, Arts and Business are people who had been rejected by the traditional schooling methods. As to why we are not ready to work towards that big change which can create an environment fostering creativity is an unknown factor. Do you have any clue?

A color called Black

The video clip of Martin Luther King juxtaposed with images of Barack Obama stream in and i'm witness to a very historic moment. That was a dream, here right now there is conviction. There are experts and more experts all dissecting- why he would succeed and why he might fail. But to me, Obama will deliver simply because it's an idea that was waiting to take shape, it is deliverance waiting to be served, it's a healing without which the celestial bodies will loose motion.

Truth will prevail, so say the scriptures, and i firmly believe it.

As i hear Martin's call for freedom for every nook and corner of the Americas and equality in every sphere of life, there is a lump in my throat. Suddenly i remember something i wrote when the issue of apartheid was on the front page all the time and South Africa was gearing for that big transition. I need to publish this today with a wish that never again would be a man judged by his color in the civilized world and never again would we need reasons....reasons to love a color called black.

******************************************

This flesh of yours
is an obstacle
to our hopes and aspirations
it makes fraternity an utopian dream

Do you find hallowed
the white your mirror reflects
else why mock providence
why manipulate destinies

Red gushes from the wounds
you have inflicted
red drips from the cross
that adorns your chest

that your heart enshrines
Yet you look for reasons
reasons to love
a color called black.

Serendipity

Sand particles
in my fist
trying to escape
into eternity

Every particle
left behind
is my love, my breath,
and my existence

Still in my grasp
while you wait
for me to let go
can you be the slice

Can you be that-
though not in destiny
but by serendipity
the extra slice of life.

karmic diffidence

the waves out there call me
the tides with their
highs and lows beckon me
everday i playfully tangle and untangle
the rope from my mooorings
and then everyday i watch the canoe from a distance
what is there on the other side?
Is it not, but just another shore?

A humbling experience

I'm almost up there at the top
Somehow things automatically take shape
I know i'm far above the rung i actually deserve
Perhaps He knows best, maybe it's because of good Karma
It's a humbling experience
God is great.

Now try this

I'm almost down there at the bottom
Somehow things just don't fall in place
I know i'm far below the rung i actually deserve
Perhaps He knows best, maybe I'm still not ready for bigger things
It's a humbling experience
God is great.

Hollow Spiritualism

If you read columns like ‘God in Gucci’ or ‘I AM’ in the prominent dailies, you would have definitely noticed the growing fad of spiritualism. Almost every star, actor, P3’ite, and even wannabes claim that they are no longer religious; they are all spiritual. And you start wondering what type of spiritualism they are all talking about. Is it any different from what you the Metro riding-Tiffin carrying-Spouse tolerating species perceive off, or is it something on a level which is beyond your grasp because of your material and social standing?

To start with it’s far easier to be spiritual than to be a God-fearing, principle following believer of any religion. There are no rules, no rituals, no discipline required to be spiritual and it suits….Oh so very much….all our pub hopping, gun trotting, skin revealing, two-minute fame seeking souls.

Don’t ever get fooled by all this grand talks of spiritualism, stay steady on the path of whatever religious practice you believe in and in the years to come by, you would definitely emerge as a better person if you go by the dharma of your religion whereas the en-vogue hollow spiritualism will leave you with nothing more than high levels of spirit in your body.

Your religion is a tool and technique to reach/discover the all important final destination and while you are in search of the end don’t abandon the means. The problem with that kind of pseudo-spiritualism is that you would never know when you fall from the path of righteousness. Spiritualism is not something that you adopt, its what you evolve into and I refuse to believe that we have so many evolved souls around us and that too all of them competing in that – BIG RAT RACE.

Life is Elsewhere

The lonely afternoon would draw me towards the window time and again. From the third floor of our apartment the view down and towards the horizon was dull and mundane. The apartment stood on the opposite side of a row of budget hotels. Children were very apprehensive about these hotels and the men who frequented them. There were lots of kidnap and rescue stories of children attributed to these hotels. These rumors were mainly planted by worrying parents who didn’t want us to venture out on to the main road. But back then the fear was real. Our building was surrounded mostly by shanties with red tile roofs, a common feature in the Calcuttan suburbs in the 70s & 80s. Adjacent to our apartment was a two storied building which incidentally belonged to one of my classmate. Their affluence was attributed to the white owl which had appeared on their terrace on a full moon day during the auspicious ‘Kartik Maas’. Today the Vidyadagar Setu takes a curve exactly at the point where this building stood.

Down there within the empty spaces between the shanties a few children were playing marbles. Towards the horizon a Double Decker bus was slowly laboring upwards the bridge running parallel to the tracks terminating at Howrah Station. The occasional crow would call out in an afternoon that had certain uneasiness about it. Papa and mama were both busy attending my younger brother who had been hospitalized because of meningitis. At the tender age of seven, I was the master of my daily activities except for that brief interlude when Raju, the office peon would come with lunch for the day.

I would often wonder at the fate that awaited my younger brother. Once I had asked dad whether he would be cremated or buried if he died at this juncture since he was too young. He didn’t answer. Once or twice in a month I was allowed to meet mom and my brother at the hospital. He was still in coma.

On that particular listless afternoon it suddenly occurred to me that everything around me was part of some story that I was dreaming and that real life was someplace else and in some different form to which I would wake up as soon as this dream gets over. The idea enamored me; it worked as a pressure release valve.

Decades later among the din and bustle of life as a businessman, professional, and parent the idea lurks somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart and comes to my rescue whenever things get difficult.

Call me a romantic, an escapist or anything else which defines it.

But even today life for me is elsewhere.