The Silent Cartographer

Connecting the dots

2011-11-02T13:50:00.000+05:30

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards

Credits-highway12ventures.com

Inthe grand scheme of things, man, perhaps an insignificant speck of theuniverse, crusades with the force of a lone ranger against the travesties offate, the constrained contours of his world and mind. If life were a game ofchess, man oblivious to the greater designs in store, plans his course ofaction till the last move. However, in retrospect he often realizes that theInvisible Hand guided his soul in his stratagem. Countless experiences andremarkable reminiscences bequeath humans with poignant embrace ofself-reflection and even an entropic evolution. With this background, we begin thenarrative of the trilogy of a pauper-prince-priest.

From the forsakenlands, in a deep veil of consummate innocence, a young cowherd boy was tendinghis cattle in the lush green outfields of the northern turfs, oblivious to thefractious contentions over lust for power, wealth and material riches thatthreatened the fragile peace of his nation. It was a time when bloodshed waspervasive in the royal families given the greed for command and it had furtherdivided the states, making the nation intricately vulnerable to foreigninvasions. A time had come when someone had to take an oath of unswervingloyalty to the people, and expunge the State from individuals in the higherechelons of authority who had become hostages to avarice. A learned brahminpriest, better known by the name of Kautilyatook an oath upon himself to restore AkhandaBharat. Perhaps, his oath was based upon the depth of his conditionedknowledge for the betterment of entire populace, and it was just too intense tobe rather dismissed on feeble grounds of seeking singular vengeance against theNanda dynasty. As fate would have it,an insignificant actor in the annals of history - the young cowherd, was thechosen savior of Magadh by Kautila. Kautilya adopted him like his own son, trained him in scriptures,war-craft and the essence of philosophy.

Unaware of his futureprospects, the young boy was made to work through an arduous schedule. Neverbefore in his life had he, known the alphabets of Pali or felt the grip of the hilt or learned the philosophy of mankindor seen a life beyond cattle and livestock. Food imbibed with small doses ofpoison was served to Chandraguptawithout his knowledge to make him immune to any similar effort at regicide. Aserene and blissful life of a cowherd, deeply unconnected to the grossmanifestations of politics and ascendancy was the sole repertoire of theinnocent cowherd. Yet, he had to summon his will and courage to undergo theteachings of his master, leaving behind elements of his self-defined future.

Shortly aftercompleting his training, Chandragupta witnessedthe legendary prowess of the mighty Macedonianarmy of Alexander the Great. On the advice of Kautilya, he had to serve the Macedonian army to learn the ways ofstrategically superior battle units and along with it, he had to fine tune hisown proficiency as a warrior. Consequently, he had to raise an army which was composedof both light and efficient battle units to fight in all kinds of terrain. Duringthis period he had some level of ambiguity in the both the effectiveness andthe consequentiality of his preparation.

After a period ofintense conquests, Chandraguptastopped his expansion and focused on consolidation and development of hisempire. He had made his empire huge and given it a great system of governance;now that he had all the land he wanted he settled down to focus on thesedomestic matters. Later during his reign Chandraguptacame across a Jain sage named Bhadrabahuand converted to Jainism, renouncing his throne in favour of his son Bindusara.

Nowthe pauper-prince-priest trilogyresurfaces. In this brief narrative, Chandraguptaas a boy was unaware of what future held for him while undergoing severitiesunder the tutelage of Kautilya. Evenas a pauperhe had to let go of certainty to trade with a much austere and gruelingphase. Only when he was fighting the battles, he was able to realize thehardships of training as a warrior and serving in the Macedonian army. TheMacedonian experience fortified his battle-unit strategies for winning theinternal wars with a light yet strong army. When he became the King, in his princelylife he appreciated the value of the education he had received, which wasapparently impractical for a warrior. Kautilyahad foreseen that but for Chandraguptait was more like connecting the dots. Finally when in the quest for higherknowledge, he renounced the princely life for a simple yet intense priestlylife, he appreciated the value of scriptures and the teachings of spiritualstalwarts.

Caprice and Collusion

2011-09-24T08:19:00.002+05:30

Myriad delusions of caprice in a mortal's fabric of thoughts, more often than not, ensue quite a preemptive genre of inveteracy. Theories of devolution along with axioms of evolution, strike each other with an otherwise majestic potency, which is often too innate and perhaps even more incapable of rationalization. To the third eye, it might preserve a level of bizarre persistence, but to astrally insignificant one, its promises yet another inconsequential stride. Desires of malevolence with a precise level of benign thoughtlessness at times, constitute the nascent stage for an appetite for aberration. Thoughtfulness most certainly comes at a price, though abhorrence at times becomes priceless. And this is precisely where, the impact occurs.

Akin to an antediluvian architectural elegance, the baroque framework of thoughts seem unprecedented. A pandemonium of adversarial notions seem to populate the unusual vacuum in the speculative image of self. Benign or vitriolic, the attributive mechanism bestows a psychic realm. The cadence of notions often remits a transformational behavioral bug, perhaps even construed as whim. Neither does it have a beginning, nor does it have an end. Perhaps in it's pristine state it defies any interdependence with matter itself. The latency of a nascent state of emotional imbalance cannot have any other attribution rather than to itself. Creating, destroying and manifesting in variegated stripes of the rainbow, dissimulates with recurrence forestalling any certainty.

Impulse in other words serves as the pseudo-romantic force behind all creation, destruction and manifestation. Whether backed by light or darkness, coercion or persuasion, benevolence or malevolence, it's invocation remains largely unresponsive towards the nature of the force, unless countered by a force greater than itself. Disparate elements persistently ascribe towards theoretical expurgation with motive change of the nature of force-fields. Relativity seems to be the nature of the law of being itself, driving us crazy and our masters even crazier. Chaos seems to be one of the fragments of the puzzle with a feeble yet certain allusion to tranquility.

bLIP

2011-08-20T21:15:00.001+05:30

Creative Commons@clickykbd

Drizzling rains and stonewashed skies can most certainly tempt the liberals to the beat. And yes, that could perhaps go on till the end of eternity. But a certain sense of perpetuity could bequeath the randomers with a shrill and poisonous embrace. Incessant milieu subject to quotidian analogy could suffocate the very fragments of air that powers the lungs, often till a sense of conclusive mortality. A blip is often decried as a trouble-spot or an unwelcome shift from the norms, but still amazing are the consequences its mere absence could entail. Sometimes a bastion of ever new joy and sometimes to the envy of intellectual pygmies. Paroxysms covetously fission the mental manifestation of self whereas detachment sustains it. Humans as a matter of fact strive for eternity to attain a balance between the two, with some inherent mental inclinations. Yet fleeting ones always somehow accomplish an exodus, be it in the realm of physical or the metaphysical. Initially, as kids some are quite infected with the existence of an El Dorado, sometimes not because of its surreal abundance, rather because of its conceived absence of any further desires. Everything you want is everything you get. Seems so even and blissful, but it harbors one draconian devil of multiple paradoxes. Firstly, what if there are negating feelings, each for its own selfish arousal. Secondly, its likeness with dogs chasing cars, for the dog would not know what to do if it actually ends up catching one. What would someone want then! Rarely a mortal knows what it needs, it only conditions its wants. Numbly feeling oneself devoid of any guilt as such, though with a feeble endeavor to experience some contrasts, turns exceedingly egregious past the limits. May be it's innate in the causal nature of self-preservation, often ascribed to vanity.

Utopian Entropy

2011-08-05T20:08:00.006+05:30

A few clicks from my camera

Wonder Years

2011-07-04T23:50:00.026+05:30

Awesome Little Devils

These were the days when, ceaseless dreams could manifest every cloudy moment of our lives. Perhaps it’s a kind of reminiscence which we can so ill afford these days. These scenes started invariably in the classroom after usual morning prayer sessions and dissolved with the eventual bong of the school bell, a familiar feeling which still carries on itself, with after-marks of the rush and rumpus, and ever sizzling in our minds. Audio cassettes (both pirated and genuine ones) used to rule our musical temptations in a way maggi had reigned our appetites or rather non-appetite for the usual cuisines. Days were kind of marked with conceited collection of trump-cards, magnetic-stickers of cricket players and comic-book heroes, which came wrapped with bubble-gums. Sometimes, we were able to find the card only after chewing the gum and it was eventually wrapped in gum spittle to our utter joy of discovery. He-Man and Complan pumped us with powers both figmental and futile. We used to kind of discuss the travails of superheroes at great lengths and contest on the most powerful ones (which would usually be each of our favourite one namely, Styro-Dhruv and himself, Shirin-Superman, Gamma-Nagraj, Shelly-Powerpuff Girls and Sigma- Doga). Selection and decision making systems for these contests were basically electoral and the majority usually won easily, discounting any sort of logical reasoning.

To make a drift towards our superheroes who made the morning sun dazzle bright although sans any discernable super-powers, these were Sigma, Shelly, Gamma, Shilin and Styro. Usually Shelly, Shirin, Gamma and Styro used to finish well within the top ranks while Sigma took care of the bottom five. Shelly and Styro aspired to be doctors while the rest were clueless about their ambitions with the except the likes of Sigma who wanted to replace Sachin in the Indian eleven. Sadly, he ended up replacing some unfortunate female of the States and works in a call-center these days. Gamma topped in either academics or in body fat content. He never could quite achieve both the things at the same time. Though he was a bit of animal lover, he habitually doted on chicken and mutton. Styro was armed with a much young looking birth certificate and he occasionally ended up messing with his own year of birth. Shilin kind of hated everything equally but his love for the language never died. Though he could never replace Gamma in either academics or corpulence, both of them enjoyed beating the hell out of Styro every moment. Shelly was one focused female who was genuinely worried about the explosions preceding sun’s white dwarf formation which was perhaps some billion years away, given it could easily gulp away our planet.What will we do then!!

Shilin used to idolize Rahul Dravid while Gamma revered Shane Warne (both his bowling and scams), when neither of them knew anything about real cricket. Yet they could endlessly go on debating about proper seam positions and cover-drives just to sink Styro. Vanity seemed to have developed its inadvertent roots in consumable popularity. The only ones who really played cricket were Sigma and Styro. Styro and Gamma also used to worship Nagraj and Dhruv in their attics. With zillions of comic-books they were a kind of Sith-lords for comic-book lending. Shilin had a bunch of Asterix-Obelix comic-books which neither he nor anybody else wanted in exchange. Time went on till these kids could evolve into boys and girls and the gross sins of the universe could then start materializing. Gamma had a heavy incessant laughing sequence which usually landed up the whole neighbourhood in trouble. His boisterous laughs used to portend some unusual punishments by the teachers. Most of his preys were recently transferred fellow students and certain perennial Jackasses. Sigma gradually perfected the art of conditioning anonymous calls to neighborhood girls. He used to be called the Pana-phoner. Shilin and Gamma tried to learn the trade of lying while Styro could perfect the gospel of illusion in the meantime. Hailed as Faadu-Samrat, he once recalled an anecdote of a smallish purple dinosaur coming out of an lunchbox sized UFO, which had landed in a dirty puddle in his locality, post midnight. And then again on the following day, he saved a cute puppy from drowning in quicksand, inside the same holy puddle. There is also a self-proclaimed true account of Styro of how he had hooked a cricket ball to hit a flying airplane, in a place called Dolumundai, Cuttack. Perhaps, Shelly was the only one who could keep her grace, modesty and exuberance intact over the years. And the only one to notice it at that instant was Styro, thanks to his young birth certificate. No doubt Styro was unusually versatile in painting, singing, academics, fabricating incredible anecdotes and cricket, but unidirectional laws of attraction seemed to tether his other flairs. Emotions seemed to drool over time while the others found it quite entertaining. Gamma and Shilin were kind of anxious, while Sigma was confused as ever. Confusion and frustration led to permanence of a perpendicular hair style of Sigma which later led to his comparison with another magnificent being better known by the name of porcupine.Then there was a certain Lambda who was equally gifted in both corpulence and mawkishness. Emotions were kind of utterly-butterly reserved for only the fairer ones and an inception of any kind of attachment took him only an exchange of a few words. The prettier ones were in their comfort zone till they had divulged their telephone numbers (fixed land lines in those days). Then the King-kong of torrential emotions would let himself loose. He gradually developed one odd habit of repeatedly getting himself bereft of mobile numbers of his dreamy muses, and getting them back from his connects. If you are one of the fairer ones and you happen to be reading this, may God save you from him! The anecdotes could go on and on, but its better to keep some things under wraps, at-least for a while.
Meanwhile Styro, Shilin and Gamma were able to make seminal discoveries in the cyber world, all as a part of growing up. They made significant inroads in to the world of curses and offbeat movies. Once upon a time, Sigma once got caught red-mouthed while trying to be an anonymous entertainer of a pretty girl over telephone and he was promptly nicknamed by her as CDA Jhinka- the local equivalent of a porcupine. It was later learnt that someone had purposefully leaked Sigma's identity to that very girl,earlier that day, as she was supposed to be one of his first true loves. Days were closing in till Styro could make his existence matter with Shelly. Perhaps there were feeble incipient signals from the other end too. He discussed this matter at great lengths with his prime advisers namely Shirin, Gamma and Sigma, who unanimously advised him to blindly forge ahead. Sigma also fancied his chances post-rejection. As, this was the concluding year at school and they really wanted to have some serious amusement. Styro had to face an instant rejection serving to the delight and expectations of his usual audience. Strangely enough someone had said that though we cannot change the cards we are dealt, but we can change just how we play the hand. And a few years later, he got back his lady luck. Styro at that time had also helped develop what is popularly known as Clove Theory, the story of lost keys after an immediate exposure to a scientific journal with seriously inappropriate content. One time, Gamma was caught abetting one felony which involved guarding a promising wanton love schedule of a person known by the holy name of Ved. Unfortunately, Ved's activities were at the other extreme and this was the not the first time he was caught red-handed publicly, thanks to his dear paramours. Ved had incidentally promised Gamma of some settlement to be done with that girl, asking him not to allow anyone else to enter the classroom. The settlement ended up in complete notoriety with the blissful ignorance of innocent Gamma. After that Gamma got baptized as The Jaguali, the colloquial for a watchman. Sigma later had a perky disappointment with a Perk bar he had chosen to gift someone with the name of Seona. He painfully gnawed eight perks after that incident took place. A few months later, Shirin tried a vain proposition with one Maroon and had to face a miserable rejection. He never could quite recover after that. Gamma and Shirin were content with their lives at that point of time, much to their agonies later.They later became needless replacements for American automation system and were rechristened as software consultants. Shelly completed her dream of serving the society as a doctor along with the Styro. Sigma incidentally made his mark in the world of anonymous call-reception, popularly known by the name of business process outsourcing. Living their lives after being separated by vast geographical distances, they still exist inside one another heart, as pieces of poetic nostalgia. Had mobile telephony not been invented, they would have found it a little difficult, living those mellifluous memories again and again. Perhaps there is a Sigma, Shelly, Gamma, Shilin and Styro living in each one of us who tries to connect to the other.

Momentary glimpses of the past still foreshadow what future holds for each one of these. Still these characters continue to live in the present, at least in the happy framework of mind and ever transient dreams. Cheers!!

Disclaimer

All characters appearing in this post are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Mumbai Diaries-I

2011-04-22T08:23:00.007+05:30

The joining location was mentioned as Mumbai in my internship letter and incidentally it was the first time ever, I would grace this city inhabited by our fellow earthlings with my exalted presence. However, somehow the very thought of spending sixty days in the least economic city of the country started giving me goose bumps. Apprehensive of a should-be-more stipend, plummeting bank balance ever since I began my so called pursuit of higher education and an ongoing (still wonder whether it’s ever historical) inflation (whatever it is, the end result makes us consumers poorer and the sellers richer and that’s exactly where they get their BMWs and iphones from), second thoughts of balking it altogether and doing some phoney summers at my hometown seemed a lot more appealing. Thoughts of having home cooked food seemed to manifest as countless delectable dishes right at my study table. Futility of a weak-will against biryani converted into a call to the concerned human resources executive.

Globalization seems to have bestowed certain inadvertent benefits on both employment and employability. Projecting clerical and routine tasks as momentous ones created executive out of mere clerks and supervising those without even the faintest idea of what it entails, created managers (of course this is what we are supposed to do). This surely means more jobs (however redundant) for the same quantum of work and perhaps even menial quality. But it does not necessitate dividing the same piece of pie; it’s more like making additional figmental pie out of thin air (note that the marginal cost of producing it is zero) while promising intangible and non-existent benefits such as quality and consistency. It can take a while to understand what the term consistency really means. It can be put in a few words as, “Truly replicating the same level of hopelessness over a much broader time horizon”.

Fancy thoughts always seem much more comforting than genuine words. The executive surely could not cite her incompetence or lack of authority in assigning a new location. Instead she included a few management buzzwords like career opportunity; financial capital and broad scope in his conversation rather deftly about which I am sure that neither of us had even the foggiest idea. I even tried to note a few of them for future utility. It was still a hard bargain for me even though I knew that none of those words stood by their dictionary meanings. But still, there had to be something in my resume to brag about for a stretch of an hour or so during placement interviews.

These turn of events finally led my joining at a Mumbai location. One of my friends had booked a lodge for our stay and it turned out to be pretty good decision afterwards. It was cozy enough with the number of bed-bugs and cockroaches just below the lower limit of endurance and shoddy enough not to charge a supernormal rent at an already posh locality. And of course, the thoughts of some random rendezvous with Katrina or Genelia (for the uninitiated, they are bollywood stars who still have both age and beauty at their side) during some unknown shoots at marine drive had been crossing my mind like umpteen times.

We quickly found out the cheapest and quickest shortcuts to convey to our offices. It was again another posh locality where these rich wasted and crazy psychotics had access to only the latest models of Audis, BMWs and Mercs. They comprised a major chunk of vehicular traffic like Altos and Santros elsewhere. Nevertheless these psychos inculcated a regular practice of a certain type of we can call it as neck yoga. It is like identifying a BMW from the logo on the bonnet and quickly turning your head to grasp the model from the trunk as it speeds away. Pretty fast, uh! Looking around for others, it seems some pre-destined wannabes have inborn neck-turnaround flexibilities, sometimes turning their necks till a knot is established. I will report if they develop two or more knots, for we could be on the verge of discovering some alien wannabes from a lesser planet. I still want to find out the proportion of wannabes who still manage to make the jump to at least a Honda City.

The good part is that this city seems to have an innate style of welcoming visitors in umpteen ways. Even with a broken Hindi accent, you can manage to get almost anything in this city, discounting purple dinosaurs and their pretty precedents. One of our South-Indian friends who normally manages to scare off small time snack vendors, is actually managing a pretty decent life here. I had suspected myself to be agoraphobic but these suspicions seem to have dissolved away. An overcrowded and ever-rushing city, still manages to embezzle anxiety out of your mind. One of the greatest memories which will perhaps remain with me for a lifetime is watching India lift the World Cup’2011 trophy, a journey which has been an absolute phenomenon. Mortal absence at the Wankhede, could not inhibit its electric atmosphere from being mirrored all over this city and especially at the Irish. Though the Mumbaikars seem busy in their own little universes they still manage time to help you create yours, but with an obvious discount to your fancies and fantasies.

It still seems a long way to go from here, till the advent of a less cruel summer with a bit of drizzle from the heavens. Speaking of some nostalgia, I still miss the serene life at the hillock.

Rolling Wheels

2010-06-03T09:26:00.013+05:30

The train for Calcutta was scheduled to arrive at the station at 2230 hrs. Umpteen announcements about the coach positions preceded the arrival of the Howrah Express though the relevant announcements concerning the time of arrival and platform number were dropped out from the list. I was slowly getting wearier with each passing moment. My skybag seemed to bear a thick slice of my ennui as it had become crumpled from the edges with my leaning weight. I did realize this but apathy seemed to dominate my attitude towards its plight at that moment.

As I was leaning leisurely to extract certain vicarious pleasure from my immediate environment, something led my focus towards the other side of the platform. A cluster of people with clamorous sounds in what seemed to be a kind of hurried hindi dialect, were moving an abundance of luggage in between the mark-posts. An octogenarian lady with her docile sons and daughter-in-laws appeared to be guiding the whole bunch. There was her young twenty something grand-daughter who was actually trying to lift one of the boxes which surpassed her amply in both height and attitude. I was still unable to get a precise view. Some hawkers moving their trolleys with shrilling announcements were obstructing my view. They themselves seemed to be unconvinced by their marketing strategy primed with their piercing broadcasts. I silently rendered loads of indignant curses to them.

It was around 2300 hrs when the Howrah Express arrived at the opposite platform. My ever vacillating mind told me that I was waiting at the wrong platform. I pushed out the extensible handle of my skybag and ran towards the connector rolling the strolley across the platform. Within moments I arrived at the assigned coach and found my berth inside the train. Shortly, had I began pushing my luggage under the seat when the overburdened-with-luggage family arrived at the opposite berth. And yes, it was my fair lady's seat too.

I started exactly where I had left. Putting on my ipod earphones to avoid losing my attention to the hubbub of incoming passengers and moving baggage, I began noticed her sparky lips with its hazing movements. Perhaps there was some fast talking going on with her bhabi beside her and those sounds were lost in the mellifluous song of Raajneeti pulsating within my eardrums. Wearing tracks and sweatshirt for the overnight journey did not make her lose any of her allures. A bewitchingly chiseled face with tantalizing eyes were the most dominant things governing her overall charm. Hand gestures were gracefully creating imperceptible ripples in the fragrant air surrounding me. There were a few more enthralled eyes nearby. I guess I got an inconspicuous angle of sight as I was reclining on the pillow. I maintained that. It was already past midnight and the main lights were out leaving the low powered night bulbs do their job. I guess the oculus adjusts impartially to both brightness and splendor. I was camouflaged enhancing my surveillance capabilities. It happened one moment that my eyes reflected a pair of lustrous stars staring back. Perceiving certain lip movement and I promptly clicked my hands-free to a pause. I waved my hand in a little clockwise move to convey a denial of reception of any message. With a muffled yet honeyed voice there were two words. 'Hi' and 'Good-night'. I courteously returned the greetings. A loud cough of her grandmother in the upper berth put us both on high alert and gradually I fell asleep waiting for the coughing to subside.

The next thing I could realize was that the train had entered the destined station and a rush of red-clad porters came pouring in inside the coach. Sadly, I was unable to locate her and with an agonizing prick in my heart, I started collecting my luggage to walk across the platform. I went to the taxi-stand to purchase prepaid tickets to hire a drop to my apartment. Then suddenly a gradually accelerating Innova and an apparently waving hand came into view. The hand was very fair and the car was on the other side, for I could catch neither. I noticed the opposite berth girl gazing through the window, all excited and vivacious and then with a certain tinge of lament, hiding her waving hand from the insiders yet with a sheer apathy towards the outsiders. I could only manage to return a smile which was promptly conveyed back.

Something else

2010-04-26T22:07:00.004+05:30

Love, Stuck with a few Platonic Verses

2010-04-24T06:07:00.018+05:30

An immaculately sculpted countenance with a definite verve for the ongoing turn of events suddenly refracted my languid eyesight on a focus. Being there for the last two and a half hours with a regressive mental absence of my sense of being, I recalled that it was supposed to be an 'enjoyable' reunion of our alma mater. Sadly, it was akin to waiting for a ravaging matador to rage towards a complaisant bull. I was waiting for a few known ones from our alumni group until that very moment. Till then, I tried to keep guessing the nature of magic potions being taken, by measuring the dynamics of different people when they were invited to the dais for the one 'big' talk- precisely from the manner of walking or rather snaking through the crowd when there was ample space beside, the way of greeting us with a legendary "hello" or the time lag between the syllables 'H', 'E', 'L' and 'O' and the basis of combining India's economic growth with the amount of booze available in this very party, as some of the necessary indicators of measurement among others. Still I would bet that only a handful had actually ~~seen~~ been to a dais before.

Returning to the focal plane, for the first few seconds, I kept wondering about the origin of this Aphrodite-like splendour. Chances were like (1) Girlfriend=80%- these studs from our college make the most of it whenever they get even the slightest of an opportunity after passing out, for they usually convert it having faced the negative side of the LAA(line of acceptable attraction) range for four excruciating years, (2) Daughter-5%, taking into account the family type father figures who were not 'on a so high' and the rest (3) 10% - an alien from Venus or a humanoid terminator who first attracts you and then terminates you because its whole mission is to terminate humans and things prevalent to these schools of thought.

I 'star'-gazed my already moonstruck eyes towards this resplendent personification of beauty itself. Her hands were carved with a poetic finesse, which seemed to wave with a measured magnitude of impatience upon the ongoing conversation. Her eyes reflected a soothing sense of peace and humility, ears were accessorized with simple jewellery reflecting a strange sense of austerity yet serving its purpose, lip movements suggested an aversion to loquacity and the sculpted milky-white face revealed that she was not a direct alumna. She was wearing a glowing green salwar-kameez, with white dazzling sandals caressing her smooth pearly feet.

The other people in the coterie were an elderly man with a definite ardour for wisdom and another man with jet black hair, which was perhaps achieved by using loads of hair-gel, a dark complexioned face, frame-less spectacles and he probably had umpteen stories to tell, for his mouth seemed to be action-synchronous ~~like sun-synchronous satellites~~ with the valve for drinking water being frequented by guests. I realized that it had been twenty minutes of appreciating the beauty next door. Not to forget the swaying shiny black hair with a longitudinal free fall to her waist. A gusty wind was present to keep things in motion and for the hair at least. Maybe the breeze was inherently enjoying the sway. I was met with three mean stares from people at slightly different angles when I swerved my line of vision compelling me to look in another direction and probably at my watch. Within moments, the elderly man was standing in front of me. Perhaps it would be another hit and run case, but this time sans the BMW and Salman. The hair-gel black jack was also excitedly hurrying towards me like he was going to have a gala time watching my plight. I mentally tried to frame up a defense in case I was first charged with ogling and was then hit. Actually, I had spent an inordinate amount of time appreciating a ‘strange foreign beauty’ which was quite improper by Indian traditions.

Then came the words, "Hi, Sonik", with a curiously familiar accent. I could almost recall the semiconductor lectures during my sophomore year at NIT. He was Prof. Goutam Patnaik. On one side, I was elated that I was not being hit and on the other I anxiously anticipated that he would have just spotted me but not earlier than the moment of realization. The other man was one of my batchmates and branch-topper whom we lovingly called the 'The Dark Knight' for obvious reasons. I stood up and exchanged hand-shakes and pleasantries with the two. And yes, the prof took me to the lady in green to introduce her as his daughter to my utter elation and the three mean starers' envy. She belonged to that prefigured five percent to my absolute delight. I happened to be Prof. Patnaik's favourite student as I could figure out from my introduction, with a feeble complaint that I was never quite industrious. Had he given complementing marks, I would have lovingly missed a few bad grades. Back to her, the name was Sonal and she was doing some course in bio-technology which I failed to grasp as I was too busy getting a close up confirmation of my previous readings. With a surprisingly compact voice, I introduced everyone to my present job explaining about my technology and clearing the occasional doubts of the festering dark knight. Soon to my sheer relief Prof. Patnaik went to meet the other professors and I knew that I had to somehow engage this dark knight in someplace else. Probably, had to inform the ‘Joker’. Then one of the three ~~jokers~~ known friends barged in with a stupefied bearing on his face which was similar to greeting an E.T crawling out of a crashed U.F.O. Even, I initially presumed that he had really seen some exotic alien creature. I pleadingly signaled him to engage the 'dark knight'. He was steering the conversation towards grade points which I had lovingly forgotten and had forgiven myself for. Somehow the joker succeeded in showing me the finger and taking the 'dark knight' away at the same time, on the pretext of finding certain soft-drinks.

My dream run had just begun. It was akin to Tendulkar batting in his purple-patch. Discussions started from technology and headed towards personal hobbies and common interests and even criticizing the boring conceited purview of the ‘dark knight’ to my joy. Even a shred of my vanity was chastened by her steadfast humility. We went to the ice-cream stand and both of us skipped dinner perhaps driven by the sole motivation of spending a few moments together. The discussion was pretty, making her look even prettier was her equally infectious smile. Then an exchange of contact details happened. All too soon, she was to get back home and was close to leave a parting kiss on my cheeks when suddenly the background was disturbed by a loud banging noise. With an abrupt dissolve of the immediate surroundings as in Harry Potter novels, I found myself lying on a bed with someone shouting at the door. Probably, the last kiss was the ‘portkey’ to the real world. Whatsoever, in this other world, it was 0400 hrs and my roommate had just returned from his hometown. A brief span of forty five seconds of winking eyelids had created a wonder which I would be glad to barter with this reality.

Ethereal Reminiscences II - The Second Homecoming

2010-02-09T15:47:00.010+05:30

Continuing on my previous post, there was a second time too. Let me try to concisely recapitulate the turn of events that had occured. I did have a sound sleep but simply lacked the motive push to get up as late as 8:00 in the morning (office is from 9-6, if you can call it work though I might prefer to differ slightly on this point but let's make it some time else for opinions). Probably had watched some firangi flicks the night before.

Then again the sleep could be slightly juxtaposed to as being dead. And to my mind's utter ineffectiveness, by a sudden uncontainable force, I was delved into some type of communication. I could never realize anything about the communicator but I could only deduce that it was about impending death, painful bereavement. No visuals. I was certain that it was never a dream, it was a communication. I still understood that there was a portending mortality in my family. And yes, I was scared and anxious.

Then came a call from my Mom informing me that there were sudden official orders from the centre and my Dad had to take the earliest flight to reach one of the remote villages in UP to oversee that the election went peacefully else report if coercion was used by our so non-corrupt and clean to the hilt, white-kurta clad politicians. Of course, remote villages in UP or anywhere in India don't have Airports. It had to be a flight-car journey. There had been some shooting earlier and one of the observers had been injured. After listening to these accounts I was shaking with fear. Dad had to take two flights and two cars to reach that village. What if my premonitions came true. Somehow I was sure of death but unsure of the victim. I did not tell any of this to my Mom. I prayed to the Lord and boarded the train back home. I had made the arrangements earlier. I picked up Chetan Bhagat's book 'The 3 mistakes of my life' to help me cover the seven hours. After going through a few pages, I realized that it was perhaps his fourth mistake to have written that book. When I had completed almost three-fourths of the book, my Mom called me again and was sobbing. I heard that my maternal grandfather has passed away. Now I instantly knew that it was he who had communicated earlier. And I felt a sigh of relief and instantly felt ashamed of the feeling. I consoled her with my heart and mind. She said that she would be leaving with her sister at around 7 pm which was roughly the time when I would reach home. I wanted to go with her. The rest of the journey helped me give a thought to the forces we are aware only when we are not aware of ourselves. Pretty concocted is the human being. Composed of the same elements as the soil, how can he be self-conscious and assert with ample confidence that soil is not!

The fourth mistake book was completed during the journey. After reaching home, I had some food (devoid of spices) and we embarked on the greater journey, back to where I was born, and where my grandfather gave away his mortal being. We reached that place past midnight.

I went and paid my respect to the elders and we went to pay respects to my late grandfather. He was lying on his bed with a stiff body. Blood circulation being stopped added additional lightness to his skin. Cotton was plugged into his nose and ears. Now I tried to exit the door. Then I became aware of a metaphysical feeling that was there whenever I entered the room again. I tried again and it seemed certain forces had been encompassing the room. It was the strange feeling, probably having the same origin as the communication.

He had been a very pious person throughout his life keeping himself engaged in meditation for long times during his daily prayers. A proponent of the YSS, he had received his teachings from an enlightened person. And perhaps, he had traversed to one of the higher astral worlds during his meditations.

This experience made me realize that was a larger scheme of things, a larger array of thoughts and perhaps one bigger matrix. I yearn to know everything about them but the wish is still a wish.

Ethereal Reminiscences Part-I

2010-01-02T14:00:00.005+05:30

One of my inceptive experiences with the evanascent glances of the 'eye of intuition' occured on the day I lost my paternal grandfather. I was immediately informed about the sad event and I boarded a bus for a nine hour long journey back home. It was when I had consciously closed my eyes, I conversed with my grandfather without any control of my mind. I specifically call it mind for a reason I will explain later. Let me remind myself that my grandfather had some of the qualities that I find most difficult to emulate even today. A God fearing man who took upon the oath of seeking the divine at a later age when he had been freed up from his worldly duties and had became a pensioner. He had made it a habit to lead his life in the most simplest sense, unfussy with his Bhagvatam and Gita. A person who never spoke ill of anyone and loved his descendants unswervingly. A golden hand in anything and everything related to household cultivation, be it vegetables or fruits. He always made it a custom to bring sacks full of homegrown fruits and vegetables whenever he came to his son's home. And alas! papayas again, which I grudgingly called durniti(english equivalent is 'corruption') as it was mixed with peas-potato curry cooked in our home in the most camouflaged manner, for I only hated papayas instead of potatoes and I had loved that pristine dish unadulterated with durniti.
That night with a slightly heavy heart and my mind focused on my grandfather, I consciously closed my eyes after being seated in the bus. After a few minutes, it seemed that I was conversing with him. None of the events was within the control of my mind, it seemed it was all proceeding intuitively. Moreover some soul conversation was going on. Suddenly I asked him to take me with him. And I don't know why! And that was it. I felt a screeching pain in my forehead as if something was being forcibly drawn out of it. I immediately began to scream "no! no! " in a soundless intuitive manner and then only I could open my eyes. This was my first ever ethereal experience after the death of a close person.
That was the start of my astral beliefs.

Random escapades of Pique Pie

2009-07-09T16:22:00.017+05:30

Pique Pie ran for his life in a bitter frenzy. But this was not the first time he had done this. It has been quite a while now when this had become a routine exercise. He never valued his own life at an exceedingly imposable stake, but then he would be bereft of his unfinished business, should he die. It was time for deliverance. He was quickly running out of all his strength to keep the pursuit on. It was time when he needed a teleport. He glanced at his wrist with a look which indicated neither expectation nor despair. The battery of the portalpass had been drained last night when he had performed fifteen unsecured teleports. He remembered Dr.Zine's cautionary words when he had presented him the portalpass, "Use it well, and make sure you recharge it once with a 35nm ultraviolet charger after every 12 teleports." And then, Dr.Zine disappeared into thin air. This was the last he had seen of Dr. Zickely Zine. He came near the platinum turnpike. The giant screen at the entrance displayed the the year 3100. It was a 1200 km long spiral road extending to the shore of Daydalis, which was a safe haven for the Pine Raiders.

He took the diversion to one of the nastiest areas of Daydalis called the Hall of Doom. A not so ubiquitous bar, where wretched scums of the society made merry with their days being numbered. Here is where he was destined to meet his fate as the stars had told. The stars had went wrong rarely, most of the times they were bang on target. Pique knew his destiny. A bright green cylinder was hung from the ceiling of Hall of Doom. It was glowing with luscious green which seemed to flourish inside the enclave. The ceiling had been created by the Dune King and it provided a real time mirror image of all the constellations of fortune. Naysayers always ascribed the mirror in helping the fate of the bandits. Pique went straight into the dingy chamber which was connected to the sewers. He has to travel 500 miles more to connect to his destiny. He jettisoned his rucksack in the sewers and climbed the ladder to the run way. The pursuers had come behind him but not for long. Pique activated the turbochargers and started running. He was gaining monstrous speed each nanosecond. A few seconds were left when he would touch a speed of 299792458 m/s. 10...9...8...........3......2...1 and flash. It was flash of blazing white lightning and it was touch and go. It was indeed time travel.

Few moments later, some billion light years away Ray woke up. He was feeling rather dizzy. He looked upto the wall and the calendar told him it was August, 2009. He tried hard to hold on to the fleeting memories but he could not. He had to go to college. And it was time, again!

The Merovingian

2009-06-17T14:56:00.005+05:30

The King hath come,
Along the wind he swayed his mighty wings,
Foregone were the days of indolence,
Forlorn were those consequences,
Time to claim what was left unredeemed,
For sake of life with a right to live.

Megalomaniacal Mediocrity

2009-06-12T17:19:00.048+05:30

We think, we aspire, we achieve. We desire, we dream and we do. Unfortunately enough if doers were so much prevalent, Scott Adams would not have the luxury to sketch Dilbert regularly.

And fortunately enough, we all have a fair chance to dream and succeed however incompetent we may have become or be from birth, when the doing part is kept with as much clarity as a puddle of muddy brown water. Here comes a living legend who is most talked about and its not because of his impeccable talent but due to his grandiose achievements. We all fondly call him "Daroga", now he is known as D0(pronounced as 'Deo'). He is a strategic achiever in the field of his own core competency or rather incompetency as a consultant. And above all, his ersatz verve for achieving whatever lies on his way is so laudable that we get a new kind of vivacious energy and it rightly caters to our amour propre with an exclamation.

Truck Loads of Coffee

The story starts with a red little truck with a yellow load, called import button. Perhaps D0's fetish for trucks starts from his childhood, when he had his mind less screwed, along with the same diminutive body. But, he wore the same 'Bermuda Browns' those days too. Whenever, he saw a truck, he tried to figure out whether he would have to buy a ladder or not so as one day he would fulfill his final destination of riding them. Know what, he could not buy a ladder, his father would hammer his head those days, obviously with a hammer because it would cause the least damage at that location. Then with the eternal search of trucks in his mind, he set sail towards the software field. Now, how would he find a truck in a field of computers, all hi-tech as he used to boast about, in front of others! All he could do earlier was to gaze upon a black cobol screen with a few alphabets on it. He took a year and a half to get the coffee out of the coffee dispenser, forget COBOL programing. May be he thought, he needed to learn some esoteric cobol code to get the coffee out, by chanting a mantra-program infront of the dispenser. Anyway he survived seven valiant years without figuring how to get a cup of coffee from the coffee maker. Then came the IT revolution. Every 1.5 people in 2 were getting jobs in software. Deo wanted a change for the first time in his life. So 'Self' as he calls himself, shifted to one of the companies he would never have even dreamt of in those days of trucks & ladders.I bet if the Nazis were there, they would have definitely killed him in their pogrom even if he is not a Jew. I personally feel he is a cross between an alien moon man-an ass-a beetle-an eucalyptus tree-a cactus plant-a pegelite zinovicks* and a plastic bucket.

*They are polyphrite ant suckers according to some research published in scientific journal Dublello Didicles.

Riding with the truck

He felt an incredible amount of elation when he was given his onboarding material in a carry-bag. Of course he had seen a carry-bag, every morning when he went to get vegetables from market. But that was made up from his own discarded bermuda brown and this was made of colored paper and the greatest of all there was a LOGO on the bag! He had no logo on his bermuda browns. He was assigned to lead his first project.

He had mails requiring urgent transports to production box and to his indignation everybody had left. He saw two types of trucks for the first time. One was half empty other full. He thought of his position as a lead and pressed the full one, half one was for lesser mortals like members and all. At least this is what he thought proactively. And then all the changes were transported into production. Next day he came to office unaware of anything with victorious smile on his face. He had burned the candle from both ends, 6 hours straight overtime to oversee the completion of his full-truck button. Once in a while he wondered why he could not have someone like Size-zero or why did the clocks turn round and round! Truck went straight then. He must have thought that it takes overwhelming effort to unload a full truck anyway, and may be after he hit the full truck, a Tata truck went all over to Germany from his office and it was unloaded.

Run Over

The nasty client had escalated with a hefty fine of $100 000. They wanted only one change in production not on the thousands of waiting ones. D0 looked as if he had seen a banshee wailing for his brainless dickhead to be served for supper. What he did next, to save his ass, only three people know in this world. God, Self and Self's Local Gods. May be he had willingly inhaled his Local Gods' farts but let's not jump to conclusions with such a little knowledge of the premises.

Return of D0

With a tinge of vengeance on his face, D0 was back at work. He had been promoted to something manager, the position from where he is likely to cause the least damage to technical work. It not that he is good at managing and bad at technical. It was precisely because still after 8 years of IT experience, he could not achieve puberty in technical know-how. And if its a case, then of lot of scrapping of projects could be in the air if Do was rolled into any of them. One fine day, when stickers were distributed for free, he got his own sticker of a half horse and joyously stuck it on his laptop. He fondly gave the nick name of 'Pegasus' to his laptop. It felt like a warrior within , the horse with wings that he would ride in near future. But most of the times it was the mythical creature that rode him. He tried Yoko height enhancer, but to no avail. He blamed yoko, and explained to his wife that he would have sued the organization, if he had time.Then came his first thanks award. He was incredulous at first, but gradually he gave in to his clairvoyance. The very thought that he can stay in a industry gives me jitters, yet a subtle confidence exists that if he can, then probably any ass could do it.

Epilogue

Do would love to do an La Shiney anytime, but the only problem is that he spends more than sixteen excruciating hours at the screen, trying to figure out what the role of a team lead is. He is strangled between half trucks, full trucks and bermuda browns. Still, IB-Confidential (you could as well call him 'Jackass') promotes his talent, may be rather the lack of it. All his work involves carrying papers from one conference room to another, with Godspeed hurry but with an insane lack of purpose. The legend will continue to live on till he is ousted by a more incompetent successor. We will address his successor as D1 once he arrives. He once aspired to go for the NBA championship , so he decided to start playing basket ball from the office side. Alas! the participation paper was posted a bit high and he could not reach it to sign it, even when he tried 16 times that day. I guess he washes his yellow full-sleeves at least once in his lifetime. It will be a welcome full moon for him then. Yet megalomania exists and so does mediocrity.

Bitter-Sweet Symphony

2009-06-05T14:22:00.015+05:30

"I let the melody shine,
let it cleanse my mind,
I feel free"

'A nice canto!', as you might perceive or might not do so. But for Ray, it meant a lot more than a sudden gust of a balmy breeze. A bizarre kind of ennui seemed to have pervaded his thoughts already. Somewhere down the memory lane, he could see a young fifteen-year old standing akimbo, beside his bicycle with his usual alacrity.The verve and impatience repudiated every claim of any logical analysis. Each of the umpteen strategies was promptly disowned and committed to a low priority level but for his own instinct, with the only hope that his convictions will last till the last puff of air is drawn into his body. But change is perpetuity and hope hopeless.

A sudden wistful longing at rather sporadic moments drew his mind to fairly intangible things. Things which were always grayed out. The thoughts that can never be conclusive of anything and betrayed his imminent judgment. 'A free mind can make a free man', is a simple adage with an nonnegotiable wisdom. Yet, it takes a life time of struggle to realize that. Somewhere something had been mistaken in an inference which precisely violated the laissez-faire law. Still it would take a monstrous effort to amass every shred of confidence which was lost in translation.

Time had been standing in its usual non-violated sense of amour propre. It behooves 'time' to use such means to make ordinary mortals realize their own worth. The time had come to renounce inaction and start living. The thoughts gradually seemed to be unshackling and a mere change in mindset made thoughts clear, judgments clearer.

Camouflaged in a Black Glass

2009-05-14T14:12:00.025+05:30

14:00 hrs IST: 21 killed as cyclonic storm hits Kolkata..(I get a call from my friend telling me to stay put!)
15:30 hrs IST: Worst storm in 20 years hits Kolkata..(Cellular Network lost)
15:50 hrs IST: Two people including me try to brave the storm. We find a lone taxi standing. We hire it. But alas! it cannot reach my place. Tree trunks lie everywhere preempting any movement of vehicles.

16:30..31.... I get out of the cab and start walking.
Somewhere in midst of a storm outside, I felt the futility of a mere black umbrella against a behemoth of a kind. A similar kind of feeling delved into my thoughts and that was for myself, I suppose. Ah Boy! Leave that euphemism aside.

The sky was already looking ominous, perhaps with a streak of prophetic entanglement. The trees started swaying with the wind, but it was in anguish rather. I could not hear them cry, but I could rather see it through the wind. The view through nakedness looked like one through a pair of black sunglasses, with the lenses having an exceptional defect of optical aberration. At that point, I happened to realize that my fate could be no more optimistic than that of the trees and then even a bigger fact that I did not seem to care about it any longer. I was still walking, unaware and unconcerned of the distance left to cover. Trees had crashed into their own species, stray inanimate cars, man-made obelisks in a theme park and then, I saw some survivors scampering ahead of me in godspeed hurry. A little while later, I witnessed an unusual sight: A girl picking up flowers from a fallen tree and a boy holding up an umbrella above her head with a precious meticulousness. Although, the rain was falling at a near horizontal angle. A tinge of a faint smile came to my lips, with a silent wish, "Careful! Dolts."

I could see a gigantic tree trunk lying ahead of me and it stuck my mind like some paralyzing force with a trace of wistful longing. I did not want to go ahead nor I wanted to admit the unverified veracity to myself. I took a few steps that exhibited my reluctance to continue yet my steps goaded me to carry on. I could get under the log with an aching screech coming from my backpack which had rubbed against the wood.

Sometimes in life, a devastating force is all that what serves to make equilibrium with a forsaken will. The living force needs to serve its own verve to make it worth living. I could get the portentous message: "Be the change you want." Thinking of my dreams and fleets, I started running among hushing inhabitants. I needed this life as badly as the storm and perhaps as exuberantly as its intensity. I reached the house marked "11" and barged into it through the front door. I felt the gloom gradually clinging to evanescence as I fell asleep in the couch..

A rendezvous with Destiny: Enter Rainman

2008-10-03T18:04:00.023+05:30

What could you possibly do when all circumstances sketch an incontrovertible visage?

What if there is neither an inception nor an end?

What if all the possible alternatives have preempted one another?

And finally who wins the duel of the fate?

You or is it your fate!

Call it divine intervention or be it serendipity..... or what ever else your mind can make you delve into..

There is one road to be taken, there is one destiny to be reached. There enters 'The Rainman'.

A dimly lit hall with few broken pieces of furniture, an ancient couch and a table with a visibly allergic layer of dust, incapable of attracting attention of even something remotely humane, was occupied by its only tenant : Ray. He always felt a deep abhorrence for the place, like he did for stinking canals with floating waste. But these days were special, though not in that specific sense. Somehow all the difficulties had taken an insurmountable stance before him and he was finding it impossible to deal them all, at once with impartiality. His usual confidence was swaying in a bottomless chasm and yet he was fighting for poise. With a fleeting smile and insane humor, he managed to make people laugh at times, yet he failed to make himself do the same.

Nobody occupied the couch either at late night or during the early part of dawn, when no palatable television soaps or sports were aired. That served as a prime advantage, as a quantum of solace. A glistening drop of rain glowing with the street light, caught his eyes when it was struggling along the window glass trying to make a mark, perhaps it was too a question mark. Ray had seen disgrace but could not feel it because it seemed just unbelievable. He had gone numb.

He had lost faith in God a couple of times before, but this time it was like a thunderbolt, as they always are: they arrive unexpected and are bang on target. He smiled at himself in the brazen mirror, as if at all there was a road to be taken which he did not take. If at all there was a mistake to be committed which he could not, so that he can justify it to himself by putting the blame upon.

He gradually delved into his intermittent heart-beat and yet he could not feel himself. His body seemed to be non-existent, his mind seemed to have transposed the balance. He realized it was a heart he had, it was blood he lost to the leech sucking his blood in his left foot. He remembered one word from his mother..'salt'. He ran across and then decimated the leech with salt. It melted down into a pathetic skeleton of itself. Just like something else.

It was around 5'o clock in the morning that made him realize that there was a thing called a bed and there was workplace to be visited at sharp 10'o clock. And now he seemed to be everything it was :"Destiny's Child" rather a step-child.

He thought of the solitary Rainman:"He walks unperturbed, unfettered with the same vision unchanged with non-linear time."

Propitiation

2008-09-28T08:18:00.015+05:30

Unquenched cravings, eternal thoughts and an irrefutable present, these are aces of my day break, when I wake up from my ever transient dreams. For a moment, it becomes too grueling to accept the present in lieu of the feasible future. Thoughts and dreams alike remain symbolic to the 'mirror of the erised'. They cast a reflection of the way I want to see things at a distant time which signifies neither possibility nor improbability. It vents out my imminent quest, the journey I have been longing for and the journey which I should embark.

Often in my life, I ascribe this realization as to being ineffable but it is not really so. It consists of amorphous aspirations with foundation in an incipient state. An Utopian world where fleeting thoughts are not so fleeting, fancy is actuality and insatiability propitiates the very cause for which a human being is born. In fact desire satiates both deed and dream. As I write these lines I feel an intense desire to transcend the verbose and express myself in a few short lucid lines, as do the great philosophers and thinkers. But I feel I am incapable of doing it so. After all, it is not easy to easily express every bit of thought or every ounce of emotion. Neither do I stand remotely even in the verge of doing so. Yet my verve to convey myself remains unfettered, unaltered in seemingly immortal verities.

The most difficult thing to achieve in one's lifetime is an inconspicuous object called integrity. The thing which cannot be bundled with comparative or superlative degrees. A thing which can exist only in an absolute sense. It simply exists or is non-existent. This is one thing which I yearn for in this life. I do not want to look upto anyone else but myself. This is the only thing that preserves the pristine sanctity of life devoid of either joy or sorrow. Idealism is a variable whereas integrity is an absolute unpossessed by any kind of relative sense, idealism may or may not be its verisimilitude.

Time follows a linear theme forever having neither digression nor pre-meditation. It is supposedly we who caper with it and land up in prevalently inopportune quantums of time. However insurmountable, incapable of defeat the situation appears to be, we should be standing tall in front of it. The only unparalleled weapon to fight their kind is integrity of a human.

I look upto the life which is beyond so that I live to conquer the apparently fleeting bliss of it. It is an expedition which is both introspective and prospective in nature. It is neither an illusion nor an allusion to idealism. My only pondering is, why I want to do so. An imperfect life with a perfect probability still prevails with its endearment to one desirous journey.

Sweden Trip-Part I

2008-05-02T13:40:00.005+05:30

Sweden (n): is a Nordic country on the Scandinavian Peninsula in Northern Europe. Its capital city is Stockholm. It is surrounded by Norway (west), Finland (northeast)........It never took part in any of the world wars. ..peace-loving...highly developed...

These were the scant pieces of information I had, before I began my journey ahead. Any way this issue seemed minor in front of the other issues which had just surfaced in my mind, which was itself in a perennial self-distracting trance. I had been assigned to the project as a subject-matter-expert(SME), the subject of which I knew almost nothing. Then boarding the flight(it had been more than ten years since I had boarded any flight and the previous ones were obviously as a minor) and all those issues mingled along with the official clearance issues. They were concomitantly staring at me like a draconian monster spewing forth fire.

The way I got into Sweden concludes in a single word called 'WoW', which forms a mottled imagery in my reminiscences. I got here all in one piece!yuppie!

The itinerary in a rough sketch looks somewhat like this:

28/03/2008-----1600 hrs

CCU--> DEL

Quite surprisingly my mom and dad had come to drop me off at the airport, perhaps they knew of my nausea well before. It really bolstered my self-confidence. I was no where prepared with the luggage. And so we went to the nearest mall and bought a samsonite cabin baggage with a laptop case for my laptop bag does a real favor to hold the laptop only.[It sucked in 11k :(, International flights allow only one cabin baggage]. The universal truth is, mom always excels in packing. No matter how hard you try, mom will beat you.....And I was ready. I checked in at Kolkata domestic airport at 4:25pm along with my parents, who had to board the flight back home. The flight from Kolkata to New Delhi was in Jet Airways(Boeing 747-400). Food was delicious and the air hostesses pretty : Ah! food for thought. It was a pleasant trip all over, though a slight headache had germinated in my head. The boeing landed in the domestic terminal at 8.00pm. I had to take the bus to international terminal (around 15 kms ) from the domestic terminal. Then, I had to check with my passport and the only good thing I did was that I filled in the immigration form beforehand, special thanks to Pajji in the KLM Royal Dutch Airlines helpdesk.

28.03.2008-----2000 hrs

DEL--> AMS(Sounds Dutch)

Pajji told me KLM Royal dutch airliner(Boeing 747-400) was delayed by 6hrs. It would have the departure time at around 7.25 am(Mar 29) instead of 01:30 am on the same day. Then one of the charlatans associated with Airports Authority of India duped me for 200 bucks for the service which was never required. Then, I had to collect the boarding pass for Amsterdam(Holland) , do the immigration check. I made a through check in of my luggage to CPH(Copenhagen, Denmark).This business finished at 12:00 am. At 2:30 we were given snacks from KLM for the delay which was pretty hopeless in both taste and amount. We waited in the so-called lounge with hundreds of Indian Airforce Personnel waiting for their flight on an UN mission en-route to Congo. Then the Delhi KLM agents, they just mismanage so well that you would prefer domestic flights instead. After lots of hue and cry, I was finally on board. Flight was good, food better, and the air hostesses best. We were served with food and beverages(alcoholic/non-alcoholic) at regular intervals. The Boeing went above Kabul, Berlin, Warshaw then finally arrived at Amsterdam. I had a view of the mighty Himalayas running through Indo-Pak-Afgan borders, which were all covered with snow caps like some one had covered the peaks with marble lining, from 21 000 ft they appeared as majestic as I had read only in the geography text books. And finally, it reached Amsterdam after 7 hrs(11:30 Local time). I managed to get off the flight at 11:50 AM. The connecting flight to was at 12:35am. I didn't have a boarding pass. I had to collect it from KLM counter. So it was rush-hour for me.

29.03.2008------1130 hrs

AMS--> CPH

Oh God! the Schipol Airport at AMS is so well-organised but too big for I had very little exposure to follow organized travel. I rushed to the terminal after checking in at AMS security cordon and they threw away the water with me(500ml -Aquafina) with my kind permission of course, the sole reason being its volume was more than 100 ml! Then I came to T2 the KLM terminal. I stood at a counter of eternal enquiry there, which propelled me to collect another ticket for counter(like in icici banks). I faced racism for the first time in my life. After a while, I got my boarding pass for CPH. It was already 12:10 am then. Within 10 minutes, I had to board the (Focker-40 passenger ) and fortunately after an hour I reached CPH.

CPH--> Malmo Central (SWEDEN)--> Nassjoe--> Vetlanda

This is the perhaps sweetest part of my entire journey. The trains are the the very best(unlike Hwh-Mas mail). And the people are so co-operative in Sweden unlike Amsterdam(Some are real racists). The first frontier at CPH airport for me was that I had to to collect my luggage from downstairs at Arrivals(as shown in the ever spawning sign-boards). There was a guy from Hyderabad and another from Toronto who helped me collect my own luggage! I exchanged 100 Euros for 830 SEK (Swedish Kroner) at the exchange counter there. Then, I got to the train terminal which was located at the airport exit. I purchased the tickets with amex card which would take me inside Swedish frontiers i.e Malmo C. A Swedish family helped me out. They were perhaps the best people I had met outside India until now. Now some where inside the train caught fire all of a sudden. It stopped abruptly after the announcement was made in local dialect, which was all greek to me. The alternate one came after 10 min. So I went to Malmo Central thanks to the Swedish family as they helped me with the local announcements. And missed the connecting one to Nassjoe. So I had to wait for two hrs. The tickets cost me around 460 SEK. (1 SEK=Rs 6.6). Its quite costly even here. I took an apple and a cup of coffee during the wait. (16 + 5 SEK). Meanwhile, I purchased a calling card, called up Chandra and apprised him of the situation. Then finally at 1714 hrs, I fortunately took the train which was going all the way to Stockholm. After half an hour of passing the snow lining on either side the train caught up a speed around 250 km/hr as per the screen-information. The journey was most comfortable of the whole trip. A Swedish girl helped me reach the taxi stand. She braved the cold and snow just to show me the way and went back. Nice gal! Then I took a cab(Saab make, Gps navigation screen, amazing, he only fed the information Vittalagatan 15 C for street and house number) for 40 kms and it costed me 465 SEK(way too much). Finally I arrived at the apartment at around 2000 hrs and for me, and it ended with a 'WoW! Finally I reached'.

A long journey towards humility

2008-02-25T13:36:00.004+05:30

A journey which has its antecedents in humility and the final destination largely inculcates and fortifies the credence in its primal form. It the journey called life.

At this juncture, the road ahead can not be even remotely juxtaposed with this freeway in the picture. Its much of a fleeting vision with opacity in the immediate horizon. Then what should I do to divert the journey of darkness towards the professed journey of light!

Its a major predicament that the corporeal form faces perhaps numerous times during its short tenure on this not so green planet. Soothsayers say its a test of character, palmists say its an atonement for the past misdeeds and so on. The reasons may coalesce to form a motley, but the implication remains the same. And its one inevitable thing, I have to face it. There are two diversified approaches: Either I face it like I face everyday or I allow it to amend my each day. The first one can make me and so forth the second can break me. In the midst of an uncertain future where everything appears to be at stake, I have to brave the present, let go of the past and construct the future. It's the primal force which makes us evolve. May be I am not too acquiescent with the present as its just impossible to foretell the implications now. In a sense its difficult to retain my normal self in this present impasse.

The immediate atmosphere influences it the most, I just become so human under pressure. Perhaps, I need render a more flexible mentality in due course of time which could invigorate the credence in myself. The mental blocks can create an illusion of a kind of monstrous power to be dwelt with. But it is all in the omnipotent mind, as they say. You control, you win. You let it control, it would annihilate your identity. It's the identity which one needs to build with clarity in perception. Let's see when...

Affirmation

2008-02-12T16:36:00.008+05:30

I am not looking for only a beautiful, slim and an intelligent girl…….They are all clichés. The ones that matter are:

The first prerequisite I expect of my wife --- no it isn't the ability to understand me, that's the second---- the first one's a sense of humor for me and all my nonsense.

She must sleep in my lap and allow me into hers. She must run her hand into my hair and fight me with pillows as often as she can.

She must allow me to disturb her, Which I will, ---no matter how busy and serious she is and I am--- , while she goes about our household chores.

She must sit with me shoulder in shoulder when we watch the late night movie together and must oblige to have a midnight walk anytime in the night.

When the curry isn't nice and I stare into her eyes, she must straight away go and make an omlette for me.

When she is downright tired she must flirt with me to win a cup of tea or a glass of cold water. She must be ready to blow a kiss any time any day and any place. By the way I take kiss only on lips.

She should call me nicknames and how innovative she coins out new ones the better and must be prepared to confront some deadly ones in return. She can call me 'Tu' or anything as am not at all particular about those pronouns.

She got every right to beat me up when I annoy her while she watches those dready serials. She can also extract what she wants of me on women's day. And I am also ready to share her pre-marital crushes and secrets.

On those rare occasions when we might fight and then go on a mourning spree, it can continue for the night. The next morning must again be normal.

I am not promising her a paradise but yes she will always get more of my love than our children.

And finally, she must have a higher life expectancy than me. I may not be able to live without her.

Bits of Star Gone Wrong

2008-01-28T18:03:00.004+05:30

We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident,
bits of a star gone wrong.
- Sir Arthur Eddington

This channels my thoughts into a predicament of penitence. If everything worked out just as well as the beautiful mind makes it seem, then this would alleviate all the troubles of people. But does the beautiful mind really exist? Or it becomes a manifestation of our own desires and wishes which would not be so benign to us as we imagine. Human desire seems to be an unbound cadence.

The very fear of losing something which we never had makes it difficult to achieve something which is otherwise quite within the reach. We humans become unnecessarily difficult persons through our outward demeanor. Feeling of pain may seem incumbent to turn our little disappointments into pathos. Does it hurt us so much or do we hurt ourselves a bit more than it would really do? Feelings of someone are the most abstruse things to decipher when there are myriad strings of emotions attached to them.

Perhaps the problems may have become imminent but would they really exist as such in true reality ? Just the fact that it takes years to build one sustainable relationship with a firm, a person or a piece of property, does not confer their perpetuality. Nor, does it make sense to shatter these to oblivion on minor predicaments. Almost like an inane proposition these seem to be our points of botheration for the creation of which we ourselves were the prime abettors at some point in time. There could be pretty much to apprise ourselves of than trying to convey it cross-borders.

It's difficult to be articulate on the matter which turns out to be too abstruse in such kind of scenario. It takes courage to resist and overcome such quantum of minor delusions. Immeasurable self-reflection might not be so benign. So it might be best if it keeps coming back even when one's desire to hold it diminishes. When you love a thing then it should be set free, it would come back if it was always yours; and if it doesn't, it was not meant to be!

Forthcoming U.S recession

2007-12-10T16:29:00.002+05:30

Recession (n): A significant decline in the economic activity spread across the economy, lasting more than a few months.

The Indian economy has been largely dependent on the U.S markets in the recent past. A recession in the U.S can mean a grave problem to the Indian government along with its private players. The so fortunate I.T consulting can be driven to naked oblivion.

No doubt, Asia is a big market but its size is no match to the U.S behemoth in India's case. There has been as many as seven recessions in the U.S economy from 1965 to 2005. So are there any innovative methods to forecast the recession in advance so that alteration in business policies and shift in market strategies can be implemented to nullify the impact as much as possible. The answer is an emphatic "Yes".

The model developed for this purpose is called ILI (Index of leading indicators).It consists of the following factors:

1) Number of orders received by manufacturers of consumer goods.

2) Number of orders received by manufacturers of capital goods excluding defence requirements: Defence costs remain independent of recession.

3) Housing property reselling and leases

4) S&P 500 Index.

5) Inversion of the yield curve: This happens when the returns on a short term basis exceeds returns on a long-term basis.

6) Consumer Sentiments

The GDP of the U.S has shown a 3.6% rise in the second quarter as opposed to 0.6% in the first. The power sectors are doing well. The surging oil prices has done its fair bit in ameliorating the situation. Lat but not the least, the Federal Reserve has made the cut by 50 basis points as opposed to market forecast of 25. It shows the U.S is keen to avert any recession in near future.

The Reason

2007-11-26T12:48:00.006+05:30

"Some of us find a reason good enough to live our lives and a few find one impeccable enough to define their lives."

A imminent juncture usually has its antecedents in an emotive sphere. Delaying the very cause for even a iota of alteration is a natural human response to avoid any sort of predicament. Born into this world of bondage its has become quite inveterate to see things as the way they are.

One night, staring askance at his reflection on the window glass, Ralph was having the same line of thoughts. Simultaneously, he was disapproving the same with a bit of ambivalence. It was around 2 a.m but his eyes were still wide open. They were staring back at him from the inside of the glass. It had been a week since he had realized that something was really amiss. His arduous efforts at work had left him with very little time for introspection. He was missing the engineering life definitely but there were a few more additions to it. He had a job, of course with a salary then independence and all its appurtenances. Then suddenly the bolt stuck like lightning. It was her, he was missing so much. It had been almost six months since he had talked to her on a genuine sense. It was like 'happy new year', 'happy friendship day' for a while. Formality had crept in with an indefinite label.

Nothing was wrong, yet nothing seemed right. He smiled at himself for a while. Her candor, her smile all the reminiscences were flowing into the fluted architecture of his thoughts simultaneously. Her most innocuous lies which was made the truth just obvious. Silly jokes and instantaneous comments about what the elsewhere people were doing. Immaturity just belying the immense understanding to promote the bit of hilarity. These had made his life so much comfortable. The very next phase of thoughts made him delve into reality again. Calls went unanswered during this period of brief standstill, messages not received and yet he was one who was undeniable to any extent for he had the inviolable rights.

She was pretty of course. The reminiscence had just created a fleeting glimpse. Almost, three months later lady luck seemed to smile upon Ralphy as he got in touch. He had a penchant of being appealing since birth either in a good way or in a devilish way. At least he thought it was so. There came an undeniable proposition from his own tongue on which he still stares with utter disbelief. As time went by things grew like they were all innate. It had been all there but there was no particular effort of spewing it forth. The proceedings at Red Hot Chilly Peppers was quite interesting. Most of the time was silence with an occasional penetrating glance into each others' eyes. And he had been in the receiving end of drops of water with a fork and was impelled to oblige. Then he had to listen to a very dumb explanation of why she enjoyed this. Actually he was enjoying these proceedings quietly. He had the same green t-shirt by coincidence and he was listening to the plots behind it. It was all smiles which he could manage at this time.

This was a new journey to embark. It could not be defined yet it occupied a flawless mental image. Time in the case was the greatest motivator. And there was some song, slowly coming out from oblivion,"She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain...."

Beyond the horizons

2007-10-24T17:40:00.004+05:30

"So this is where it begins", Ray told himself. He had the clairvoyance that it would impede the flow at a certain juncture. It had become so difficult to abstain from the truth. Still in its impalpable manifestation, it could make some sense for the second time. The first time was when he had around ten years of time during which had undergone certain catastrophic atrophy under inadvertent whims.

Pressure had an adverse effect on him, when thought purely on emotional grounds otherwise he usually did not succumb to. It was God-gifted luck that sometimes gave the impulse to defeat a mounting alteration on his composure. Countless thoughts seem to hover around this predicament. An impasse had to be avoided. It was worthwhile in making the efforts necessary to rise to the occasion without thinking what failure later might make you bereft of.

And it seemed diabolical again, for God most certainly doesn't play dice. But this necessitated a victory as they say, 'sometimes winning is everything'. The devil smiled upon the lesser evil. His thoughts didn't belie reality. Things were placed at an imperative brim to foretell his wish. Wishes may be sometimes unreasonable but he thought otherwise almost instantly. If it was a younger Ray then everything should be perfect and that too perfectly perfect. But with time these implacable whims had drifted away and a ray of common-sense had surged in. If every thought was emotive and the actions following them took complete credence in them, then there was lesser chance of enlightenment. Finally, he had to build faith in his intricate senses and intuition.

Time had progressively inculcated patience in him. He knew some things are perhaps worth a wait. The gory dreams and nightmares had instilled some virtues which had not been perhaps bequeathed to him as a birthright. Aware of the fact that clouds could obscure the moon too soon, he craved for his wishes and started to categorically deliberate on each one of them. To him these wishes were human, but there were still impediments which shouldn't have been there. And these were human too. "May be I am a devil incarnate", he muttered to himself.

He had mustered a definite level of clarity on right and wrong by this time. He had a life to live for and he would heed to only moral reasons, not to equivocating environmental whims. On a personal level, he had wished these things not to exist at the first place, but then he would have been bereft of some greater experiences too. Tranquility was what he was searching for, may be this is what we all humans search it for a lifetimes.

Some unusual moments in life could turn out to be most decisive after all. There was such a compulsive flash and he could perceive the manifestation beyond impervious walls of imagination. The time wasn't quite right this time in a line contradiction to his thoughts. Insuperable circumstances could impel the situation in foreseeable future. There are times in life when one is forced to take steps which one abhors most, but later they turn out to be the perfect blends to make a journey smooth.

Our Benefactors

2007-10-01T19:27:00.004+05:30

Looking skywards marveling at the bewitched stars and just fleeting to an ephemeral day-dream, we usually have a sudden gust for realization of our quintessential self. The real benefactors cease existence and the very thought seems to scare our might. There is a sudden rise in abhorrence for the very cause we lack the independence. But independence is an ambiguity in itself. It entails a concerted effort from listless humans to survive. Some come to be known while others remain veiled for a lifetime. It's said we are the only one who are only ones who are the cartographers of our lives. But isn't the very concept worthy of a draconian dispute? There are some things which have a penchant to test our audacity. There's a diabolical causality in the underlying realms.

Usually the expectations and whims that threaten to tranquil the aggressive self. May be it takes time for emotions to settle aplomb and realize that some of the expectations are just fancy. It may pertain to the expectation of parents, may be friends or may be your better-half. It would just look majestic but from their perception. Your interests and your passion are much alien to others with an exception of a few cases. The burning desire to be a dream-weaver doesn't leave much space to relax, it's the atrophy you yourself undergo in a slow pace. Loosing self is the biggest loss if I had a say in it. It takes such a monstrous effort to rediscover yourself in the tiny bottlenecks of time.

It's a welcoming reason when you are asked to set your priorities right. Standing akimbo you can't set them right impromptu. There's a dire need of cognizance of priorities in the first place. Some processes have to run eternal while others are ephemeral. Some need time to decipher and some need to be 'terminated now'. It is you yourself, who is the sole stakeholder here. It is time to stand up and shout it loud to the soul within. There are no benefactors in this world. You can be a beneficiary if the will and whim is there to do something. It is time to wake up and rise and rise high...

Definitive Diversions

2007-09-27T19:53:00.003+05:30

Sooothsayers often elucidate with this proverbial danger, " What is already done cannot be undone". The phrase does make these people a behemoth to the believers, but the belief itself is fugitive intrinsically. It slowly fades away like the fleeting clouds to unveil the azure skies. Diversions defy being explicit most of the times. They only occur with formidable force. Some may seek vengeance where others may try to restore the balance. Life in itself is a conundrum and diversions are the entities. Somewhere solved, a few times replaced and most of the time they are in a state of flux.

The flux state is manipulated by audacity, courage and last but not the least wisdom. They bend along where the force overpowers it. Life in itself is a bequest to all of us. The journey makes us experience, analyze and realize. Every fallacy does pertain to permanence. It's the evanescent nature that causes these diversions.

There's a need to redefine some things time to time. Things and thoughts lacking proper classification make little sense else galvanize a problem to much bigger dimensions. Haven't we observed since childhood that the sweet coincidences are brought about when we require them the most. The genesis of the force that manifests our wishes is yet to be known. How many times we make things happen when we need it most!

There is a simple answer to this: we are making certain things happen. May be it's not so generic because there are a lot of abstruse concepts yet to be known in this journey called life.

Fleeting Bliss

2007-09-21T14:57:00.005+05:30

bliss. n. a state of extreme happiness

Dreams seem to coexist with the human race since aeon. Their very existence might seem evanescent to this real world. It's true to an extent that these make us set a firm resolve to live but humans are attracted towards fallacies too. The vision is obscured by ambitions most of the times and the frenzied mind makes them appear real. These quintessential patterns are the solemn urge of our wishes and fancies.

The light apparently converges at a distant horizon but its the human perception that is fallacious. It always runs towards infinity. The pain is not receding. The true vision is dominant when there is a realization of self. The friction between the whims and entailment vanishes. Bliss emancipates the individual not on the attainment of dreams but it's the bliss itself. It's in a way proprietary to the being.

The eyes emanate innocence, the lips majestic expression together ensemble to give the final touch. Desire and greed are two entities with one foraying into avarice and other having a consummate strength if it has an attribute of innocence. Success pertains to the degree of wish, and perhaps the degree of success confers to the madness of the whim. Desires too in their own class are ephemeral pertaining to their intrinsic nature. May be extraneous at some point of time, but they always conjecture to a certain possibility. It might be indulging circumlocution to a certain extent.

The one who realizes the endless possibilities of these dreams and works on his own way gets fruition. Everything doesn't work out as expected. They may exceed expectations!

Entree Galore

2007-09-19T13:12:00.010+05:30

Thinking about Montford, Lauren and Randy, ah! well, they better be kept out of this. Funny thing was that Montford was obsessed with Lauren and Lauren was simply self-obsessed. Randy was too happy with his brandy, to think of anything else. Those were the handful of people who could make Ralph less introvert. The rest of the history was left intact along the footnotes of time. Every one should have a tinge of darkness from the past, which made Ralph incapable of thinking otherwise.

Berks did advise Ralph on his four sacrosanct steps which were principally based upon gross physical emotions rather than mental well-being. Ralph knew Berks' diabolical nature to the extreme intensity which Berk's had proved again and again. Now gleaming in his mind, were these thoughts which made him feel to be in a state of elevated sainthood. What he ignored was that he was incapable of accepting the unexpected.

Brief flashes of past flickered in his divergent mind. Thoughts took him to Montford, his good friend seeming proficient in managing his own organization. Ralph still had to attain proficiency in his current assignment and he perhaps eternally waits for a kind, he would love. For Monty, it just required the power and bent of mind to convince one colossus of a person especially when Monty preferred to differ. There was a thing for which Monty decided he would undergo self-customized atrophy, and it was Lauren. Good friends since college days and the relationship still halted to an impasse as the time evolved. As for Lauren, her heart was still like an open highway. Ralph had some concern about this. But he was more interested in redeeming his own life rather than understanding the abstruse complications of the secondary ones. Little did he know that these things accentuate to a point when credence gradually begins its own devastation. Berks a kind of always had a certain ingenious way of expressing thoughtlessness.

Randy had been always a kind of innocent escapist, still having creed on the virginal self- image of being. Just having a blissful time roaming and enjoying parties in the places whose name had become hackneyed enough to even qualify for one. He was in a school of thought which believed in keeping all the candles out, so that all the women remain fair. The hiatus of the Monty-Lauren seemed to a permanent one to Randy. Still he had his own life to deal with.

Ralph did think himself to be a kind of extreme genius at times, when there was no conclusive semaphore restricting it. Most of the time there was one, and to his utter dismay. His thoughts had been put into an spinning web. His confusions, his diversions and finally the premonitions did befuddle him.

Lauren had been in her world of dreams, lacking even a single vague touch with the real world. Always having thought herself to be flawless which had compelled a few affirmations from similar dim wits. She was in the illusion of some concerted effort, she was raising in order to prevent relationships from deteriorating further. These things just floated and made her bloated. Some things get into the head so quick that one never realizes it had to be kept in control.

Ralph admired one person to the acme: Berks. He always annotated his every direct speech to Berks with some obvious slangs. Yet he was like the Rolls-Royce of emotional-excellence. Always suited up to the occasion however frivolous the host may be, invited or not, he always was there. He wasn't always that smart. There was a past to it, a typically brutal past. Brutal on Berks, you got to be kidding. He is the Emperor of all diabolical schemes after all. Let us keep this past to some time else.

The time had come for once and for all to take a final stand. It could just prevent the impertinent convulsions. Monty could not make himself undone with any obsession. As for Randy he continues to live in a certain non-committal manner. And by the fall of pain, Ralph acquiesces with the reality, and seeks out for his own life where he has something to fall back upon. Berks still doesn't bet a penny to this as always. And for the lucky Lauren she remains as always, buffeted around by her life. She perhaps had a golden hand in its creation and its aftermath.

Life on a Fast Lane

2007-09-18T15:21:00.008+05:30

'Let's get it started'.. Perhaps this phrase has qualified enough to be termed as a cliche. But, let it be some other time. It's the overwhelming confusion, Ray is facing this time. The typical may be, may be not situation.

Drifting in darkness, may be it was a natural consequence of his unconscious choice which made him think of what needs to be done. Some one had told him earlier, "Listen kid, If you want to win in the future you need to be prepared to lose now." He had made the naive mistake of taking it too literally, when it had de facto a subtle inner message. You need to fight the battle first. If you lose it at first, then awaken your spirits, exorcise the demons within and fight it ab initio. It sometimes necessitates to lose a battle to win a war.

But what is the proverbial war! It is the war within self , the war of an individual in an apparently eternal quest for a segregated identity to be known as 'Ray'. To be proclaimed in life for the very reason he exists for. Does it have a role to play with the manifestation of this singular life or it is eternity he is thinking about. Never having given even a speck of thought on what he really wants to do, at twenty-something he decides to take up this matter. Didn't he give a thought to it when it mattered less or was he engulfed by this life to such an extent that he didn't really look into it as a matter of concern. Better be late than never, he says to himself. All he finds is blinding darkness within. Can it be enlightened by the flames upon which he has utter faith.

Flames! Yeah, flames. Those guiding angels which show the path when we are lost, those which make us happy at times of sheer despair and which incessantly burn within us to give us our purpose sooner or later. Ah! the mind of a man can just dart off to the subject least apropos at that time. "Oh Ray! why do you ever discount relationships as a tool to kill boredom", he quietly introspects himself. Introverted, intuitive, thinking and perceiving was he as termed by others. Some thoughts just came in and out of his mind akin to clouds which make the cuddled sky. Immature was the term used for him by his closest friends. But, sometimes irrationally held truths are more harmful than reasoned errors.

Relationships may be the greatest strength at some point in the time-line unless they are shattered when they prove to be the greatest weakness. These memories come as a bane to the exigency of the situation. Thoughts needed to be diverted to a single route without blood streaming into the veins and its subordinates. Let's now try eliminating the impossible so that whatever remains may point to the truth. It might be pointless at times, but for that very cause, we are still humans. Looking askance to the mirror on the right, he made a investigating look at the distant flustered image, which wavered with the flames.

So back to flames and their subtle vibrations, singing and ringing into the ears about matter unheard for a long long time. Flames, yes it is the very self which burns inside the conscious and the unconscious reminding us of our existence as a whole. But only when you make allegiance to them, they help you discover. Else, these sounds quickly go unheard in the vast depths of time. It is the credence in self which is at stake and it's not akin to some self-obsessed theory which emerges when self-esteem is on the run.

Ray has to live his dreams but has he got any? Oh yes, they have always been sky high. It was time to ponder upon these dreams with the an intensity which might invigorate the very purpose of this life. And the quintessential requirement is to do a logical deduction on each of the stairways to them. He took his stand, the purpose could only be defeated by reason. Is it such that everything in life is logical or has logical explanations? No, perhaps they are understood as humane.

His thoughts made him think of the eternally diabolical paradox. It always made his mind to ponder whether the thought process always foreshadows some baleful instance or not. Clairvoyance for despair made a comical sense that time.Thoughts and countless thoughts streaming through the fluted architecture of the mind had been clouding his judgement. But this time, clarity was back, his mind was more focussed and a seeming vexation was receding away in the form of gentle waves.

Time had steadily evolved to enforce a definitive decision. It was Ray's and it was only for himself. It was time to seek vengeance for the lost. The elusive suddenly became the most obvious. Like still water, clarity fought back with an audacious elegance. The voice of the flames appeared nascent and forthright, acclaiming all his virtues from within. Those which never condemn for the so called blasphemy. They heed to only higher moral reason.

Ray had already made his decision. "It is time", he quietly said to himself. Self-esteem slowly crawled up to his craving and with his credence restored, it seemed to be another belle epoch. This was his last-stand with an unshakable resolve. The radiant sun had finally dazzled.