27

“How much?”

“Thirty rupees.”

“Acha, is there a wine shop here?”

“Yeah, right behind this shop.”

Oh ok.

(2 minutes later)

“Listen, you stand here, I’ll try and get it. Worst case he’ll ask me for my ID and won’t give. Worth a try, no?”

“Ok.”

“What do you want?”

“OMR”

“Uff! Ok.”

----

“Bhaisaab, ek quarter OMR.” (Asks confidently, scared that he’ll be asked to produce an ID)

“No OMR.”

“Oh, so what rum?”

“Bermuda”

“Arre yaar. “ “Bacardi hai?”

“Haan.”

“One quarter Bacardi then. How much?”

“One twenty five.”

(pays and makes a triumphant exit)

5:15

I've always loved train journeys. Partly because of the chance encounters I have with interesting characters. On the one from New Delhi, I met Rahul. He's this guy from a lower middle class family and a master of emotions. He loves to love, he loves to fall in love, and then keeps groveling when he's in that love-sludge. We were discussing yesterday the two most important components for love. Since he's a technocrat, he prefers mathematical formulations. His theory is: love = attraction + respect/admiration + extreme fondness.
He also told me, like many others before him have, that I have no hope of falling in love with anyone because I cannot have all the three components satisfied for anyone. [No hope despite Barrack Obama being nobel-ed for his Hope Campaign and KCR going the Srimamulu way to get Telangana.]
On my train journey to New Delhi, I was left thinking about all this, and I delved deeper into Rahul's character. He's one of those crazy romantics, who may serve as the perfect mascot for popular cinema, especially the 90s cinema. I loved him in Yes Boss and Dil To Pagal Hai. But the one I'm referring to here is the spineless, obsessive and madcap in Darr. He's not a practical lover (if ever there is such a thing) like his other school-friends, who would treat love as a decision, and once made, they'll consider it blasphemous and unbecoming - to change such a decision. Unless, of course, the decision involves changing to someone who's perhaps slightly more endowed in terms of finances, or has a relatively settled life/certain future. That is so true. Why would a person like Rahul's friend do anything about the love she has for an illiterate, poor person when a person with a lot of cash, a settled life who can afford a flamboyant lifestyle, is in love with her? Apart from nipping it in the bud, of course!
I can think of all this myself only when I'm in a small town - a town where leading life fruitfully (fruit=wealth) is all one must look for. I completely agree with such a point of view. I am convinced there is no such thing as love. Those three things can never come together, and even if they do, it's impossible that they'll last beyond a flash. Maybe that's why I'm always in love - I do find those three components very easily, but they never last. The third one is the one which lasts the longest and the second one is the one which flickers the most. But what does one do when there are second and third components on a sustained basis, but there is no amount of the first?
Then I remembered what Alan Shore said in Boston Legal:
"Life's hard, love's harder."
And I expanded it:
"Life's hard, love's harder;
Falling in love even harder, knowing that you are in love is the hardest."
Alternatively:
"Life's lovely, love's lovelier;
Falling in love even lovelier, and knowing that you've fallen in love is the loveliest."
It's not about cynicism, it's about pragmatism.

Lightness

A classic Deepavali at home begins in the morning with getting up early and collecting the diyas from the ledges outside home, which were lit on the previous night of Choti Diwali (i.e., the night of the month of Ashwin when the moon had almost hidden itself).Then, scores of clerks and other employees coming home for some gifts, followed by family friends and relatives exchanging greetings and gifts all day round. A standard tray containing four plates – two of dry fruits, and two of sweetmeats, is usually arranged in the morning, and is served to everyone who visits. In the afternoon, when people are not expected, the postal greetings to various people are finalised, and would be mailed the following day.

Early evening: a Rangoli is composed at the entrance.

Real Diwali begins at around seven in the evening, when all the lights outside the house are lit, and the temple room is cleaned and re-decorated. Other important samagri (ingredients) like a large plate (thaal) containing a steel water container (lota), rice grains, sugar crystals, red powder (sindoor), sacred red thread (mauli), gold and silver coins, apart from the recent ingenious practice of keeping credit and debit cards (as representatives of cash ledgers) for poojan. There is a Ganesh-Laxmi idol, candles and diyas also present at the poojan. The poojan takes around twenty minutes, with the standard conclusion with an aarti. After the poojan, the entire house is lit, with candles and diyas in every corner of the house.

Thereafter, the family sits and chats, plays cards for a while. Till my father’s younger brother and his family arrives. There is excellent home-made dinner and lots of laughs and teasing. Then everybody retires to the drawing room where savouring the dessert (usually kheer), the adults discuss business, colleagues/co-workers/employees, family, politics, family politics, health, religion, children, food and cricket, while the youngsters-college, careers, movies, music, friends, food and sport, and the still younger ones - school, friends, playtime, playstations and food. All this is amidst heavy noise of firecrackers and suffocating smoke. I think I have been a privy to the discussion with all the three classes of people at each of the last four Diwalis. When I began to be recognised as belonging to the first class, when I actually fitted in the second. And well, the third has always been my favourite, though sadly it hardly has any members now.

Right now, I’m just sipping cheap dirty port wine, sitting alone in my room, wondering why I’ve been foolish and why I can't work even if I have been.

Mixed-Up Confusion

I have one of the most awesome beginnings to a trimester in Law School so far. Lots of mixing, lots of confusion and lots of mixed-up confusion. Old people have delighted, while the newer ones have disappointed. I didn't know that there are people out there whose head is more mixed up than mine - indecisive, irritating, but still lovely. But I must let go. Sooner or later, the state which I've dreaded in the last three months will come. i can feel it. It's quite sad that it will end in such odd circumstances.
Looking forward to The Philadelphia Story tomorrow.

So the alcohol's over. And no one has any cigarettes left. And I've officially lost faith. Though there's still a hope of getting it back.

The meeting didn't go at all as expected. In fact, there was no truth in most of what I said, but I think lies will only help the other person.
"Because sometimes, the truth isn't good enough. Sometimes, people deserve more."
Atleast I hope so.

I wish I were on heavy fuel. Maybe then I wouldn't have lied as much. Atleast not as beautifully.
Oh, and everything is off the record now.

It was strange. Almost unreal and creepy. And yes, very very trippy. I couldn't understand the point of the whole thing. I just laughed and laughed till my stomach started hurting.
Actually I should feel bad about it all, but really, I just can't stop laughing. Still! But I'm also left wondering what to do now.

This definitely has to go into my biography. Strange Brew!

I look from the wings at the play you are staging
While my guitar gently weeps
As I'm sitting here doing nothing but aging
Still my guitar gently weeps

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that beautiful solitude that once used to be mine. The solitude which I can trust to stay. The solitude that keeps me free.

Ah, but our own dear contradiction is here!

"If I ain't dead already, girl you know the reason why!" Yes, in a very Yer Blues mood.

Get Back

It seems to be the season for elections, confusions and reconsiderations. So I think I’ll just join the bandwagon and take back my decision of ending this blog. It’s not because I have any good reasons for doing so, but I’ll revive this because I’m just bored and it will be good fun to post sometimes.
Since I’m in a reticent mood, I’ll just say that my mood has changed from I Will to I’ll Follow the Sun.

Oh, and Roland Garros begins in less than two weeks. Twelve days, to be precise.

The End

It was a most beautiful evening. With three friends. One of the most wonderful places I’ll come across in this town.

I think it’s also fitting to end the blog on this note. Times are changing. And this blog can’t really keep pace with it.

“Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die!” - John Masefield.

It’s been quite a while since this space has received any writing. Plenty of stuff has changed since the last time I wrote. It’s been quite a busy trimester, with me falling head over heels for ‘the law’ yet again, not only because of movies like Witness for the Prosecution (a highly recommended movie, though surprisingly, the Agatha Christie short story is not as good), but also because of enjoyable courses like International Law and IPR, apart from other assignments and initiatives, like this one, books like Uncommon Law by A.P. Herbert.

Love Affair

As I, along with five other people carried my almirah down, a formal end of something was marked.
And I was reminded of this picture I took in June, 2006.



To all and sundry, thank you for all the love and lessons.

I Got Mail!

Despite having a heavy load of work for the coming night, I was whiling my time away going through my mailbox and all the pleasant and not so pleasant memories. Since my mailbox is systematically labelled and all, there are two labels which are sort of forbidden, because they conjure the ghost of the past. One might advise me to get rid of and delete them, but I, as a rule, never delete any of my mails. So while reading some mail conversations in those label raised a smile and brought fond memories, the more recent ones just shook me enough to disable me to work tonight, putting me in a precarious position with regard to my work. I shall bid myself a pleasant night with these words:

"Try to realize it's all within yourself
no one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small
and life flows on within you and without you"

(George Harrison, "Within You Without You, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band)

Twenty running on twenty-one

They say that when you're twenty-one, you're a full-grown adult. I don't know how much of that is true with respect to me, but surely 2007-08 was possibly the most eventful year of my life so far (however people might smug at me and say, "Is that all?". I would say "Yeah, that should be it.") It is quite a transition, and I feel so transformed in a year full of storms, depressions and love.

It is fittingly marked by a most perfect vacation. Of pure bliss. Of peace and calm. Of enjoyment in simple pleasures of life like enjoying the monsoon with a cup of tea between the fingers and an umbrella over the head and the cup of tea, with trousers rolled up, and with the missing cigarette and its smoke.

Now twenty-one running on twenty-two. I hope I make this one fruitful.

Blae

“Dude, have you ever felt that the world's come to an end?”

“Oye! What’s wrong with you? It was just an exam!”

“I couldn’t attempt 20 marks out of 60. I’ve effectively flunked the course!”

“You won’t. And even if you do, it’s ok. Happens to everybody. You’re anyway probably the chap with the lowest CGPA without repeat in your class! And in any case, since when have you started taking exams so seriously? How can you get stressed out by exams?!”

“Hmm… I always took them fairly seriously but never get stressed out by them. But I really feel the end of everything right now. I mean, I didn’t even feel this way when I saw that sms from that wretched person with a meretricious disposition. Not even the day before that. Never before. It’s a new feeling – sort of despising myself. I mean, I’ve indulged in plenty of self-deprecating exercises earlier. But this is something new. An active hate and loss of faith in myself.”

“Uh ho! What’s the big deal, sir? Just three more days, and then you can revitalize yourself. Have you heard the concept of an unlucky number?”

“No man.”

“Yours is nine. All of us have our bad luck. So relax.”

“Stop throwing silly superstitious bullshit at me, boss! Unlucky number and all. You and your shady Oriental nescient nonsense. Get a piece of rationality in life, man!”

“Ok ok. Sorry. But there’s no use crying now. Assume you’ve got a repeat. Study for it. What else? It’s a perfect opportunity for you to learn, which you were planning to do after exams anyway.”

“That’s true. But it’s not that I didn’t know what to write. I probably knew more than most other people in my class. I was up till 5 o’ clock studying for it. But I just feel so helpless right now. One of those escapist feelings to go into absolute seclusion and become a recluse. Possibly a hermit. But I subdue those because I know I’m here to do something. There’s a purpose. A long term noble purpose, which cannot be allowed to be overridden by these escapist tendencies.”

Blues

It's such a shame that a course like Evidence Law, which seems more interesting than anything else currently, has been destroyed because of a snooty teacher, who randomly decides to concentrate on CopyRights and a lack of replacement for Mr. Ape-resh - a mongrel dog who has left me and my compatriots helpless, not just clueless. Hoping that this vacation will finally see the construction of that destroyed building called "The Law of Evidence". Prior promises in relation to other wrecks like Property Law, Contract Law, Administrative Law never materialized. But then again, there's always a first time.
Apart from that, there are those old-age blues, which I have always experienced in June but are exalted this time by the fact that I'll soon be a great grandfather.
Old. Rankwise. Rollwise. Wisdom-wise, hopefully.

On a brighter side, I've realized that My Back Pages (Bob Dylan: Another Side of Bob Dylan) and In My Life (The Beatles: Rubber Soul) are splendid, one filled with hope and revival- "Coming Back To Life" types; and the other of good memories, and a romantic past.

Music

Time to brag a little.

“Great music that is not in the mainstream needs a host – someone to bring you into the fold.” –John Mayer

And as part of a dedication to that host, I’ve downloaded arguably some of the greatest music I’ve had, in the last 50-odd hours.

Little Juju

Roland Garros for me is the most looked-forward-to Grand Slam event. Yes. Even more than Wimbledon. Sadly, the Ladies Singles title this year becomes 'without-having-to-be-defended'.

------

I always thought that she was the female counterpart of Bjorn Borg in more ways than one. Apart from the same coolness and calmness of Ice-Borg, she too retired on a high - at her prime, being the only women tennis player till date to retire when on top. Twenty-five. An age when most other players become great or grow greater.

------

Sometimes, when someone leaves, you feel that a sort of void is created. That's exactly what I feel about women's tennis right now. You might say there is Maria Sharapova, Serena Williams, Ana Ivanovic, Venus Williams, and so many more. What's the big deal?
I mean. There's Ana Ivanovic.
But then.

Would you see that little girl, looking angelic in a white jacket walking into the court with her red Wilson kitbag again?
Would you ever see that coolness and elegance on the court again?
Would you see that greatest-backhand-ever (footnote: John McEnroe) again? - That high powered inside out single-handed backhand hit down the line, while the opponent lady is just changing the grip of her racquet, and after the ball passes by, she's left gaping. That disguised drop slice backhand. Would you ever see it again?
Would you see anyone as emotionally tough as her again?
Would you ever come across a lady who carries on her shoulders the hopes of an entire nation for an Olympic gold when she walks into the court?

Would you...?

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now - it's just a spring clean for the May Queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
And it makes me wonder.

Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know - the piper's calling you to join him
Dear Lady, can't you hear the wind blow, and did you know - your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

- Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven (written by: Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, 1971).
[#31, RS 500 Greatest Songs of all Time]