A night which never ends

12.32 am

Rekha Bharadwaj playing in the background.

Tossing and turning, awake and distrustful.
I finally throw off the covers and think what I can do now.
All the books I can read are not with me right now.
I have given up on television so long ago.

I think of cleaning my room but am not annoyed enough.
Get a bar of Toblerone, move quickly to my third one.
Thinking of browsing the net, but what more news will satisfy my curiosity?
So give up on yet another idea, another fleeting thought.

Want to call someone, but have exhausted everyone.
Open the window and the breeze comes in, cheering me up.
My only companion, which wafts in and out carefully.
I think I will trap it somehow but never act on it, like countless others.

12. 40 am

Jagjit Singh takes over

He fills the room with his pain and pathos.
He becomes a part of me and its my voice in the room suddenly.
I realize that we are both alone.
He, running away from grief, I running towards it.

Suddenly I realize that the kind wind is still around.
Engulfing and enlivening everything around.
Suddenly everything seems not so bleak..
I believe that this too shall pass.

I slowly return to where I rose from.
Thinking that one day everything shall come together.
I will assuage the losses and make good all that was not mine.
The kind breeze. A lilting song. A silent hope.

One day, all will be fine.

Mangalagiri- A mélange of colors

Offering something for everyone, Mangalagiri near Vijayawada has numerous charms in its folds. Rediscover the many charms of a village famous for its saris and temples…

At a distance of 18 kms from Vijayawada, Mangalagiri a place as famous for its temples as for the colorful bouquet of weaves it produces. Time spent in this sleepy village simply flies by, with its quaint streets, friendly villagers and numerous stores selling the famous Mangalari saris. You can visit the temple for a quick darshan, shop at the many stores, simply soak in the clean village air and walk around the countryside and farms.

Things to do in Mangalagiri

-          Panakala Narasimhaswamy temple perched atop the Mangalagiri hills was built in 1650 AD by Raja Vasireddy Venkadri Naidu, the ruler of the town. A splendid gate leads you to the main temple and the entrance is flanked a gigantic chariot or ratham.

Upon inquiry regarding the origins of the name of the temple an interesting story was told to us. The temple got its name from panakam (water mixed with jaggery) served as an offering to the deity. The region was prone to volcanic eruptions in the past due to the abundance of sulphur found in the region. The eruptions were attributed as the angry outbursts of Lord Narasimhaswamy and panakam was poured into the idol’s mouth to placate him. Till date every visitor offers jaggery water to the deity. The temple closes by 4 in the afternoon. 

-          Lakshmi Narasimhaswamy temple is located at the bottom of the hill and is the first thing you notice the minute you drive into the town with its arresting gopuram which towers over the town. Built in the 16^th century by Krishnadevaraya, the temple is beautiful and the intricate carvings on the gopuram speak volumes about the quality of artisans in the past. Walking around the temple transports you to the past with its fallen pillars, stone walls and vast spaces exuding heritage from every corner. 

-          Shopping for handlooms is a major draw. The temple town offers some of the finest cotton saris and fabric to the country and the town is full of stores where you can shop to your heart’s content. For those interested in knowing how the saris are made, a visit to the weavers loom is a must, the weavers are friendly and share interesting anecdotes. It takes about two days to complete a sari and the commonly seen motifs are mango, leaves, flowers and geometric designs. Fab India sources its fabric from here and the most arresting features of Mangalagiri fabric is its mélange of colors- reds, oranges, greens and yellow make the sari as vibrant as a rainbow. Bargaining is tough here as the storekeepers refuse to give in to any tactics employed by even the most seasoned shoppers.

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Part of my first ever travel piece!

Doors

What secrets do you behold?
What lies behind the closed exteriors?

I think often of those soulful eyes sought to be mine
I think often of the recherche that ought to be mine

Restless and rancid,
Rancor runs amok

The purposeful silences and invidious glances
The if and buts of a promise never fulfilled

The beauty that lies within you
That which you seek never be known

Strong and Silent
Graceful and Gregarious

A withdrawn you and a withered me
Stare into oblivion fleeing all things glee

Will you not let me in
O my loved one

Yesterday

I was reading a couple of articles I had written early 2008, (one of which is the first ever pieces to be posted on this space) and was astounded by the irrelevant use of adjectives, the complete going overboard with the hyperbole and the lack of cohesiveness in writing. I was appalled by my own earlier writing. (Not that it’s any great now, but the quality has toned down considerably. In a 180 word  movie review I did of Revolutionary Road, I used 6 exclamation marks. 6!) On the same day I was talking to a colleague who wistfully remarked that life she was so happy in the past and now her life is a complete mess.

All of that really got me to wonder, were things really good in the past or does history always seem better because you don’t have to face it anymore? We've often heard of how simple things were in times gone by or how happy we once were, but was it really so? Isn't looking about the past and thinking how wonderful it was merely an exercise to divert attention from today and the odious everydayness it carries with it? Getting wistful about the past is alright but the sort of starry eyed-ness is nothing but escapism, an epiphany we have perfected over the years.

We look back at that which has happened only because it’s easier to deal with the past than the present, you can negotiate with it, believe that it happened your way and term it easy because you no longer have to face it or fight it. Past is important but present is sacrosanct. It is, because it allows you to shape your ideal of the future. While yesterday withholds you to ransom, today releases you with reason.

Today is a bright wonderful day. A day looming large with possibilities, enticing you with its exuberance and brimming over with the euphemisms. Allowing you to marauder alongside the margins, simmer in the silence of the known and covet the credulous innocence of the unknown.

Influx and Redux

On a day spent watching old Telugu movies, I am feeling alternately wistful and wasteful. Thinking about the relationships which are the way they are and are not, brooding about the people who are around and who aren’t, longing for things which have happened and have not, wishing for the future which may or may not happen.

I sit alone unreachable by those around me, I feel alone unmoved by those who can reach me and I dream alone unmindful of those who are a part of those dreams. My thoughts are in a flux- angry, agitated and annoyed: at everything which dares to become involved and anything which dares to be too distant.

Unable to want any of those who are around and wanting those who will never ever be around again, my distant daze is confused by its own terror and the terrifying tenacity of its thoughts. I am tired of waging the same battles over and over again with the expected variations resulting in the expected results.

I am desperate for calm but will shatter it once it comes closer. I want to run away far and wide but feel shackled by the air that surrounds me. I want to make true all that my heart wants by am engulfed by a wave of despair which sinks me each time I move. Desire and despair, Querulous quiet and lost loves, all battle silently together.

A single tear makes its way through silent sorrow, a solitary flame stutters in abject neglect and a sole wish is lost in the maze of confusion. Life, seems at once cheerless, at second glance it appears unrelenting, refusing to let me go, drowning me with its lifelessness, choking me with its dejection.

To the glorious grief lording over and refusing to let go,

To sinking deeper into darkness and not caring to try,

To how things were and how they promise not to be.

This year

will hopefully leave me alone! When I was about to write in my diary on Jan 1, 2013, my curiosity got better of me and I read what I wrote on the first day of last year. I read that I wished I for a kind and compassionate year. That most certainly didnt happen, what I got was a year which was merciless and mostly cruel, draining me in every way possible- personally, professionally and financially. That shock of a year I guess, is the reason I dont wish for much. I have always found that keeping your expectations abysmally low helps, always. I only hope that it bloody leaves me alone.

This year didnt exactly begin on a great note but I made my peace with it already. If at the end of the year I remain just as I am right now, I will take my blessings and leave quite happily. Another bloody big disappointment last year was that 2012 was when world was supposed to end and was quite the high point of the year for me, sad that didnt quite materialize the way I hoped it would.

The only wishlist for 2013 would be...
- Leave me alone. Period.
- Finally making that trip I've been meaning to.
- Reading more non-fiction. Reading more of anything actually.
- Writing in something else than the one I currently do. Also, getting a raise where I currently work.
- Not losing any more money.
- Buying the bed I want to, not doing it because the one I like is ridiculously expensive.

Will not be overtly ambitious and wish for more. But then wishes sometimes grow wings and want to soar far above, what does one do then?

Who would've thought

that Aa would commit suicide. Was my first reaction when Sa told me that a school mate of mine recently passed away. I did not know Aa well at all, she was the coolest girl of my school. Good looking, fashionable and someone all of us had a crush on. I still remember everyone discussing a dress she wore on one of her birthdays (a white churidar with see through sleeves) which was a scandal back then (honestly, we were so repressed!) but Aa was someone who defined cool quotient and whom everyone wanted to be or be with.

My own interaction was restricted to a polite nod or a smile whenever our paths crossed in the corridors. But, over the years whenever conversation veered around school, Aa was a part of it because you wanted to know what she was upto, what she was doing and what was going on with her. That’s the trouble with benchmarks of childhood, you never out grow them, you never can.

So, when news came in that she committed suicide leaving behind a two year old son, I was thinking…what makes people so despondent that they think that the only way out is death? How could someone who had the proverbial everything be reduced to such a state? Looking back, I see a bright young girl who had the world at her feet and knew it. It’s astonishing how things come full circle. The whole incident reinforces my belief that what you see isn’t always the truth.

The tragedy brings to fore the simple truth that tomorrow is unseen and how life can come to a standstill in the turn of a second. There was a girl who, everyone thought was going to reach the stars, little did we know that she would become one of them.

My thoughts go out to her family and to Aa, who will forever remain the most talked about girl in the batch of 2000.