I see him!

He brushes the unkempt hair from his face,
Rough hands touch her, softer than lace
She listens rapt; as though in a trance
As he expounds on the intricacies of dance.

I see him!

His feet kicking up snow, ash shaken off his chest,
Her brow wet in perspiration, his in Ganga's mist!
He rattles the drum, her anklets tinkle,
As they dance atop earth's oldest wrinkles.

I see him!

This lord of men, in the summer of virility,
Mountains for shoulders, swaying with subtlety,
I see him wholly with the eyes of my heart,
The king of dance, as he holds court.

Living alone...

Living alone brings us to love and hate ourselves at the same time. We start the day spread-eagled on the king-sized bed with the clear morning chimes of an alarm clock, patting it hard, to go back to sleep, but wishing that there was somebody to lend a voice to that nagging feeling saying "it's time to get up, you are late!". The day is spent in the pursuance of success and perfection, and yet, we loathe the man in the next office who goes home on the dot of five to go pick his in-laws up from the airport. We want to show off about the amazing speeds we achieved on our last snow-boarding session, or the speech we wrote for the wedding toast of a friend, but we would rather not have anyone telling us about how their poker night went. We are incredibly competetive about being the guys on every girl's mind, but cannot find the will to commit to the sweet lady who longs for us. We long for space, wanting to gain more and more for ourselves alone, and then, we are seldom home, because we can't take the silence. It is interesting what the complete rule over one's life can do to an individual.

About a girl

It was the month of January, and I was in the last throes of the time of life they call the teens. We were all in this beautiful town in the lap of the mountains. It was a crisp winter evening, and I still remember the sharpness of the breeze on my skin, although I have weathered several winters after that in the American Midwest. I had seen snow for the first time in my life, that morning. Those days are hard to forget.

We were all out in the main street of the town, called, rather presumptuously, 'the Mall'. It was a long winding road, pretty narrow for the main street, and paved just about enough to last the winter. On both sides of the road, were small tenements that shared walls on both sides with others. The constant change of slope added to the effect of a beautiful and cheerful walk. The walk was even the more agreeable because of the passersby. The girls had a singular red tinge to their cheeks, just like the apples the town is famous for. I remember chiding myself for thinking like a Bollywood lyricist straight out of the sixties for that comment, but it was true! I saw a woman wearing a long fur coat that was bright red. She herself was wearing a long black dress, and bright red lipstick. If I had seen that outfit on a mannequin, I would have laughed it off as something nobody would dare buy. That evening, I remember thinking how graceful and elegant it looked on her.

We kept on walking, for all had taken a liking to the laidback lifestyle that characterized this town. One of the very few shops where a large young local crowd was hanging out was that of a baker and confectioners. There was a phone booth in it, so, we started making our phone calls home to say that all was fine, and that we hadn't run out of money, yet. The wares were incredibly delicious. The cakes could not be lighter and the icing thicker.

I had had my fill, but I still wanted to buy a huge black-forest pastry. All through the walk, it had troubled me that there should have been someone else with us. But she wasn't doing too well. The cold had got to her. And I thought she would be delighted with a huge chunk of chocolate. She had told me that girls like chocolate. I was surprised when she had said that. I walked up to her quarters, and asked one of her roomies to call her out to the hotel receptionist's, which was also a TV viewing area. When she came, I was taken aback by the beautiful dark-brownish-black color of her hair, which landed comfortably on her shoulders. She would always tie it up, so I had never noticed. I motioned awkwardly to the box I had placed on the table. It had never occurred to me that somebody might shake a box to find out what its contents were. She did, and I let out a yell, so she dropped it. I picked it up and opened it. The old man did know how topack a cake to-go.

The look on her face doesn't fade quickly from memory, but I can not find any words to describe it. She later told me how she had felt very touched. I would like to believe so. The nearest I can liken my own feelings at that moment, are to those of one that has just found wings to soar into the heavens - Icarus taking off for the sun. One who has found the means to save the world from utter damnation. That night, we talked a long while, and shared the excellent confection, although the sweetness of the moments lingers. But those were special moments. Moments that can only be explained by a tranquil smile on a beautiful face with two gorgeous eyes, looking at me…..

Scriptures and their interpretation

Disclaimer: This kinda started out as a comment on this blog, but eventually I had to relegate it to its own space ;-). I do not wish to be didactic or presumptious or stand on the "soapbox", but just have something to say. Please bear with me

Any philosophical idea is open to interpretation. The true measure of the universality of a theory lies in its ability to be interpretable from any angle. The interpretation is but a review. It is modulated with the frequencies of the carrier ;-), the translator. Unfortunately, some interpretations have ulterior motives, and are presented with good or malicious intent. (Examples of this are the contortion of Jihad in the Quran, and the Vedas-Atomic bomb angle suggested). However, in order to understand the original idea you go straight to the original text and try and fathom it yourself.

The original idea of Hinduism is that God is everywhere, within oneself and without oneself. So one simply imbibes God and loves him. In order to do so, scriptures have suggested several clearly defined procedures (refer to the Gita, where Arjuna actually asks Krishna to outline a set of guidelines for him). Many people over the ages have followed these guidelines and reportedly attained bliss. Neither the content seems ambiguous nor the procedures undefined. The question is of proving authenticity.

It is true that the scriptures ARE just points of view. So are most scientific theories. The difference is just that a form of proof has been provided to these theories by experimetation and mathematics. For example, if you were to question the truth of Einstein's theories of relativity, one would prove it to you, but not before you had undergone several years of intense tutoring in math and physics to attain the level to understand these theories. Most people decide to take the easy route and take these as axioms, while others take the harder route and actually go all the way and understand them.

Similarly, people have announced themselves as having attained God by following the words of the scriptures. Some of us accept their word for it and accept the nature of the scriptures as axiomatic. Others experiment and are either successful or unsuccessful. Yet some more simply declare themselves sceptics without any experimentation. Any which way, it is a personal choice, based on how badly you want to understand God and for what reasons.

Finally, looking at various religions as competing perspectives would be incorrect, since all religions essentially preach the same thing. I would rather think of them as co-existing methodologies - some clear and some vague to the common man.

Tsunami

I stretch my hands and hug the wind,
Absorb the aroma of nature's breath,
Around me spotted hills of white sand,
Ahead, the sea is blue and in good health.

The venue of many pleasant reveries
Seems pensive and laden with hesitance
Sending forth frothy emissaries
That touch my feet with reverence.

I am honored, my friend, but I fear
I do not deserve your veneration, for
though I am bent and wizened, full of care,
I am no rival to your winter score.

Then the sea drew back and stood
To a wild stallion it was akin.
Ever restless, yet never crude,
It marched forth, steady, serene.

My feet wet, then my body, my soul,
In my ultimate violent ablution,
I knew the ripples were not just consuls,
But were entreaties for my pardon.

The white sands surround me and the blue water is eerily calm. I can feel no wind, and yet it is there above me. All around me, it's as empty as my head is, right now. The waves touch my feet as if with respect. I am humbled, for the sea has seen countless many more winters than I. Again and again, they come. I sit there, for I wish to be close to them. The sea has been my friend. For every answer in the past many years, I have come here and put questions to these waves. Sometimes I have found answers, sometimes, the waves have been frustrated and just retreated, never to rise till I have gone home. But, they have always come back. And so have I - With or without answers.

Today, I was no different. I had questions, burning questions which needed the quenching waters of the sea to douse them. I was angry, and I was sad. The waves were very gentle, but not forthcoming. They touched my feet again, and drew me closer. Then the sea displayed its beautiful head with graceful flowing strands of surf. It took the heart of me, and I knew I could not leave. I waited to be absolved of my life and for both our souls to entwine. I realized that the sea had been asking me for pardon for what was to be my fate....

From the cold to the wet

Well, here I am in my hotel room in San Diego. Left Kansas for good last afternoon, with mixed feelings. Definitely looking forward to the new life and new job. So, here's my life beginning again on the water's edge, where it began at the outset. San Diego with its beaches, hills and greenery reminds me so much of Vizag. Looking forward...!

What scares me, though, is the whole scale of it all. I am being awarded a hotel stay in a $400 a night place for 5-weeks. I get a convertible to drive around for a month, and all my expenses paid for. My car and all my furniture is being shipped here for me halfway across the country. Why the royal treatment? Are they expecting some Einstein? Further, can I live upto it??? I am just the geeky-looking kid with the million-dollar gab, methinks. I only hope that I am not being thrust into a current I cannot swim in. I don't want to be flotsam, would rather sink fighting.

I realize the meaning of the word "humbled", used by some people on podiums making grand acceptance speeches. It is the feeling of self-doubt when you realize (nay, just think) that you may not be worth your billing. How am I to learn the core concepts of emerging technology and contribute effectively in a short span of time? Well, lets find out, I guess...