Something makes me ask profound questions today. To myself. Not any shit about who created this universe, why "He" created it or why He particularly created me and invited me to throw stones at him Himself. I don't care a shit about the existence of answers to those questions, they are not going to make any difference to me. Now that I am on planet Earth, I will be here till ... a beginning ends. My beginning. Every beginning ends. I don't find solace in this truth. If I have had a definitive beginning, and I am known to have a definitive end, then why am I left dangling in between? With questions? With expectations? With desires? With objectives? With a cold nose and a burning ass?
Numbers were an awesome creation. The species' most 'valued' inheritance that has successfully percolated through ages. Humans could not have done without numbers. They needed to count. Count the days of one's life. These days, to count more than just days. Infact,they do count anything. Damn those numbers. Go in search of love. Go in search of an experience where there are no numbers. Beyond counting, beyond computing. Try doing that and you will be pulled back. To settle the count of food that you eat and the litres of water that you drink. Birth on Earth is surrendering to numbers.
Why numbers? Poor creatures damnit. But the answer to every question has to be with them. This is where the profoundness of my questions begins.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Saturday, September 17, 2005
void anticipation(void);
Nostalgia...Down memory lane...I have grown up enough to hold a couple of tear-drops rolling down from my eyes. I have grown up. So sad.
It was 1996. I was a kid, 10 years old. I had just got a new bicycle and had just pushed my first pedals. My father, his friend and his son were collectively making an effort to teach me how to ride a bicycle. It was a pleasant Sunday evening. The sky was clear and we stood by the shadow of our house ready for an adventure. The velvet rays of the Sun and the serenity of the hour made an unforgettable blend. The cycle was slightly big for my height but I managed to take my new "Photon" cycle for a ride. Today, it lies in our backyard, rusted. No one cares for it anymore. I have not given it away to anyone either. A few years later I learnt to ride a bike, a Hero Honda. Something was missing on that day. Anticipation.
The very same year. Early November and an another beautiful evening. My friends on their cycles and me on my new "Photon" full of enthusiasm raced towards the stadium. On the big playground behind the stadium, big stalls had been put up to sell fire-crackers, rockets, 'sur-sur bathis',"phatakshi" as we call it, all so well arranged in colourful and shining packets, that no kid could resist the temptation of somehow trying to own an entire stall. The Sun would slowly fade away. Because we set out in the evening and my mom would never let me out before 5 pm and would never let me in after 7, we had to satisfy ourselves with the mere sight of the 'colourful crackers' and planning to take our dads along next time, we had to turn our cycles back. Home was calling. Before we reached our homes, we could hear the sounds of fire-crackers and 'Lakshmi-bombs' and 'googi-bombs' on our way back. Deepavali had already begun - in the lives of people. Something so heavenly was present in the air and the hearts of people. Anticipation.
I don't remember how many crackers I burnt that year. I was always waiting for the Sun to go to a silent snore so that the air could come to life. I had set my eyes on a 'Rs.1000' cracker packet that my friend had got. He had kept it in his bedroom. He showed it to me. Bedroom was not so easy to enter. I cannot forget what happened that night. I only heard the sound from his house. It was an accident. The whole packet exploded in the night and his bedroom was burnt. No one was hurt fortunately. He was a careless boy. He spoke of it as if it was the funniest thing that had ever happened. I burnt more of his crackers than mine that year. I cannot recall a more 'explosive' Deepavali. Something so lively was present in our lives that year. Anticipation.
This is year 2005. I am 19 years old. Something so much about life is missing. Anticipation.
It was 1996. I was a kid, 10 years old. I had just got a new bicycle and had just pushed my first pedals. My father, his friend and his son were collectively making an effort to teach me how to ride a bicycle. It was a pleasant Sunday evening. The sky was clear and we stood by the shadow of our house ready for an adventure. The velvet rays of the Sun and the serenity of the hour made an unforgettable blend. The cycle was slightly big for my height but I managed to take my new "Photon" cycle for a ride. Today, it lies in our backyard, rusted. No one cares for it anymore. I have not given it away to anyone either. A few years later I learnt to ride a bike, a Hero Honda. Something was missing on that day. Anticipation.
The very same year. Early November and an another beautiful evening. My friends on their cycles and me on my new "Photon" full of enthusiasm raced towards the stadium. On the big playground behind the stadium, big stalls had been put up to sell fire-crackers, rockets, 'sur-sur bathis',"phatakshi" as we call it, all so well arranged in colourful and shining packets, that no kid could resist the temptation of somehow trying to own an entire stall. The Sun would slowly fade away. Because we set out in the evening and my mom would never let me out before 5 pm and would never let me in after 7, we had to satisfy ourselves with the mere sight of the 'colourful crackers' and planning to take our dads along next time, we had to turn our cycles back. Home was calling. Before we reached our homes, we could hear the sounds of fire-crackers and 'Lakshmi-bombs' and 'googi-bombs' on our way back. Deepavali had already begun - in the lives of people. Something so heavenly was present in the air and the hearts of people. Anticipation.
I don't remember how many crackers I burnt that year. I was always waiting for the Sun to go to a silent snore so that the air could come to life. I had set my eyes on a 'Rs.1000' cracker packet that my friend had got. He had kept it in his bedroom. He showed it to me. Bedroom was not so easy to enter. I cannot forget what happened that night. I only heard the sound from his house. It was an accident. The whole packet exploded in the night and his bedroom was burnt. No one was hurt fortunately. He was a careless boy. He spoke of it as if it was the funniest thing that had ever happened. I burnt more of his crackers than mine that year. I cannot recall a more 'explosive' Deepavali. Something so lively was present in our lives that year. Anticipation.
This is year 2005. I am 19 years old. Something so much about life is missing. Anticipation.
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