A New Beginning…

It’s a pleasant morning.

I stand by the window, having just woken up,

and a beautiful sight greets me.

There’s a sheet of white,

the atmosphere wrapped in fog.

I take in the air,

and it gives me a high..

The cold of the winter numbing, yet so refreshing.

A young man’s milking his cow.

On the opposite end,

a dog playfully jumps on his mate.

Further down, I see an old man,

wrapped in a shawl, and holding on to a stick,

the hunched back is no curse of old age,

as he decides to take his morning walk.

A young boy crosses him,

huffing and pedaling he stops by at every doorstep,

and creates a thud…

The newspaper boy has arrived.

A beautiful melody then strikes my ears.

The songbirds are singing the dawn chorus.

It’s a beautiful morning,

feels almost heavenly.

Its already been a while..

As the fog now gradually arises,

as if its being sucked in by the atmosphere.

My eyes fall on the heavens,

a cloud seems to have a silver lining.

Gradually, it starts getting brighter,

until the sun finally breaks out.

I take in the warmth,

relishing the glow.

Suddenly, I hear my phone ringing.

Without caring to look,

i answer the call.

Its my boss!!...

I’m given a reminder of an unfinished task,

and he bellows out the agenda for the day.

The call is over.

I stand there, stunned.

With the most cruel jolt, I had been brought back to reality,

as a single press of the button had ruined the most beautiful moment of my life.

I try to come to terms with what lay ahead,

an agonizingly long day of relentless work.

The realization sinks in,

that the world outside this window isn’t as beautiful as it seems.

With a heavy heart I move away,

to get myself started for what lay ahead.

The day begins..

OF PEOPLE AND THEIR NAMES...

STATUTORY WARNING – BEFORE YOU BEGIN READING, I CONSIDER IT MY DUTY TO INFORM YOU THAT I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT INTEND ON INSULTING ANYBODY. AS ASHAMED AS I AM TO ADMIT IT, HOWEVER HARD I TRY, IT CONTINUES TO REMAIN MISSION IMPOSSIBLE!!.

Alright!!.. Now that I have warned you, its really not my problem if you get offended reading this. So, anyway, of all the things that I suck so badly at, remembering people’s names perhaps tops that list. I don’t quite understand why but its somehow just so difficult for me to remember so many names and trust me when I say, I try really hard. I may talk to you for hours on a daily basis and expect you not to be surprised if I suddenly decide to, after 6 months of our knowing each other, and out of the blue, ask you for your name. Because, believe me, me being the character that is me, it has happened aplenty in the past.

This rather undesirable, one-of-a-kind quality of mine has led to several classic moments in the past, some of them being plain laughable. When I was in the 5^th grade (i was this bad even back then and the worst part is it has only gotten worse with, if i may call it advancing age), I had a handful of friends in my locality which was, well, less of a colony for humans, and more of a jungle (not that i didn’t like it). And there was this new guy who had just moved in, as i would learn later, a couple of days back. I introduced myself to him and we instantly got along with each other and became, well, not the best of friends, but very good friends at the least. We used to spend most of our time together playing cricket, and breaking windows (i’ve broken my own around 5 times). I don’t know what he said when he first mentioned his name, but i heard it as Prithvi. And so I assumed I had heard his name correctly and continued calling him that. He, of course, responded all along. That, however, was until six months later. After acknowledging for six long months of my calling him Prithvi, he finally felt the need to correct me saying that it was Rutvij, and not Prithvi. Don’t ask me how it sounds similar coz I’m not the only one. I heard Rutvij as Prithvi, and he, the exact opposite. 

If that sounded stupid, then here’s more. There is this relatively good friend of mine who I have known for like 5 years now. And believe me; I still cannot spell her second name correctly. I invariably add an ‘a’ after the second ‘l’ and it makes it sound so funny. And mind you, this is only while writing the name, and not pronouncing it. Well, either way, it doesn’t matter, as I still end up screwing a name. I do sincerely correct it later on, but that ‘a’ continues haunting me to date.

Recollecting another incident which was rather recent, I met these two guys in my gym who happened to be brothers. We so happened to have common interests in a lot of things and so, the bonding naturally was rather instant. We worked out together and spent time outside the gym as well. And after a year-and-a-half, I suddenly realized that I didn’t know both their names. The only difference, however, was that this time around; I got a taste of my own medicine. They didn’t know mine either. (GLAD TO KNOW THAT THERE ARE MORE OF MY KIND OUT THERE)

And, inspite of all this, the best is yet to come. My sister’s wedding took place around a year-and-a-half back. And, while I was going through the wedding invitation card, my eyes happened to fall on the ‘Muhurtham’ time. However, I happened to read ‘Muhurtham’ as ‘Muthuraman’. And for some sane reason, I stopped immediately and hence did not notice the mention of the time a few spaces beside. I immediately went into the kitchen where my mother was getting dinner ready for the family and asked her who this person ’Muthuraman’ was, because it obviously was an unfamiliar name. Inspite of my mother’s repeated mention that there was no one by that name in our family, I stubbornly insisted that I found that name on the card. Until a few moments later when I handed it over to her and the embarrassment that followed when she pointed at the time and what that name actually read as.

As bad as I am, I have made a sincere effort over the years to somehow remember atleast the names of the important people in my life. And that explains how, after a three-year degree, I remember the names of atleast 90% of the people in class which, believe me, is a remarkable improvement. And I certainly have gotten better off late and will hopefully continue to do so. At the very least, the next time I read a wedding invite and come across ‘Muthuraman’, I shall proceed further to see if there is a mention of some time..J

P.S. – Please note that none of this is made up. I am actually that bad at names!!... 

P.P.S. – Thank you!!...J

GLORY…. LOST!!...

I’m in the ring.

The crowd’s chanting my name.

The spotlight’s on me.

I’m on top of the world.

I feel dizzy,

i can see myself dropping dead any moment.

But, i wanna keep fighting.

I can see my opponent wearing down.

And suddenly, i get a rush of blood.

I see the title hanging from the top.

Yes, a few feet,

mere inches,

separate me from my holy grail.

One knockout punch is all its gonna take.

One move, just that one move,

before I can officially call myself the best.

I’m measuring him,

he slowly begins to move.

i stamp the mat in frustration,

impatient, restless, i wait for him to turn around.

It’s taking forever,

but he’s getting in position.

And after taking what looks like all of eternity,

he turns around.

BOOM!!...

Yes, i connected.

He’s knocked out cold.

I quickly grab a ladder.

I start climbing it.

I can feel the tension rising.

As with each step,

the cheers get louder..

Breathless, tired,

i push myself, hands stretched out..

Just three more steps..

Yes, i’m about to do it.

I’m about to wrap my hands around the championship.

I’m the best in the world

I’m gonna be the world champion.

Three…

Two…

One…

it’s gone.

The crowd’s gone..

i can no longer hear the cheers.

There’s no title hanging.

All i can see is a dark, grey, thatched roof.

A spider’s trying to spin a web.

Ah! Damn!!...

couldn’t that stupid alarm have waited for just another minute??!..  

A COLD LOVE!!..

I lay in bed.

The bed was a sea of white.

I had a failing sight,

but it had not yet lost all its might.

As I vaguely saw around me,

people, people, people.

It was a sea of humanity.

They were all gathered there for me,

but I knew not why.

Because the one I so eagerly awaited to see,

was yet to arrive.

An endless wait later,

she appeared in vicinity.

And as she approached closer with each stride,

my heart beat faster.

I had a strong urge to follow her.

But, I knew that it carried a price.

I’d have to leave these people behind,

but none of it bothered me.

I also knew of her past.

History had stood as testament,

to how disloyal she is.

Numerous men in the past,

have been bowled over by her charm.

I’m not the first man she takes with me,

nor will I be the last.

But for reasons unknown,

i still awaited her,

with open arms.

And almost suddenly,

i felt her swooping down.

And as she caressed me,

it sent shivers down my spine.

A touch so cold,

it made me numb.

She planted her lips on mine.

And as she kissed them,

it felt like life was being sucked out.

She had embraced me.

And I embraced her.

She had welcomed me to her abode,

and I gladly obliged.

Suddenly, i heard some sobs.

I turned around,

to find the sea of people drowned in tears.

I didn’t know why and I didn’t care.

Falling for her charm more and more with each step,

I continued pursuing her,

until she finally opened the gates to her abode.

It seemed an unfamiliar place.

I walked past the corridors,

glancing at the walls,

and images of the mourning people flashed across.

I realized that i was probably missing something.

Or, was i ?

Yes, of course i was,

After all,

i was a dead man…

 

  

A WARRIOR’S LIFE…

The world of mixed martial arts is a violent one. And it was on the 1^st of June, 2012 that I officially set foot into this world. And it was about a week later that I first met our head trainer, the founder of the school, a man of average and such deceptive height and build, yet so explosively powerful he is the last man you would ever want to screw with. Though it was only around 9 months ago that I had my first experience of this world, I was no stranger to this concept. Fighting had always enthralled me and I knew a lot about the form. Or so I thought. After having to listen to my trainer speak for about half an hour, in what was the most inspiring speech I had listened to in quite some time, myself and my fighting friends’ (i prefer calling them that.. if u think its crazy, too bad.. They’re my friends, i’ll call them whatever i want ;-)) minds, thanks to some carefully chosen words by our head trainer, were set in just the right manner to get all of us ready to face what lay ahead… an unimaginable amount of physical work, almost torturous. I had been gymming for two years before joining this class and I thought that was as tough as it could get. But, guess what?!.. I was mistaken. Believe me (and this is a special mention for all those who passionately work out in the gym and think they’re tough) gym is child’s play in comparison to what a fighter’s workout actually is.

So the class begins. We go through our regular warm-up drills. The mood of working out sets in and the words of my head trainer from the aforementioned inspiring speech come to my mind. “You are all warriors. You are here to train to be warriors”. And the words make me wonder, “what does it truly mean to be a warrior?” Agreed, we’re all students who are here to passionately learn how to fight. Martial art is a tough sport. It’s extremely demanding both physically and mentally. This is where I learn what it truly means to be tough, what it means to push the limits of human endurance. Fighting is both an art and a science. Unfortunately, many hold the notion that fighting is simply a matter of brute force and senseless use of violence. But, I guarantee you, it’s much more than that. It’s a skill that has to be mastered in order to obtain the best results. You have to be an intelligent fighter. Emotions such as anger and frustration do not fetch you anything. Because it’s the one who’s calm who thinks better. Yes, you heard me right. Fighting involves a lot of thinking, strategy, technique and planning. And, the development is not just physical. It’s perhaps as much, if not more, about the mind as much as it is about the body. The goal of martial arts is towards the greater development of the mind. Because without the mind, of what use is your body? I have always been a believer of the power of the mind and I get to experience that first-hand as the class continues. I realize that as physically draining as the sport is, as long as the mind is set right, there are no limits to what the human body is capable of achieving. As I’m huffing and puffing, face red, almost trying to breathe normally, I can vaguely hear my trainer saying, “Control your mind and make your body listen to it. For, if you can’t control your mind, how can you control your body, whether you’re fighting in the ring, or fighting for your life out there in the street?”

 I continue huffing and puffing and look around at the other tired faces, begging for a breather, and I realize that giving up is a disease. It is perhaps the easiest thing to do. And the more you give up during your training, the less likely you are to successfully defend yourself in a life-and-death situation. It is what you produce during your training that you reproduce during a fight. Giving up is not just a disease, it’s a contagious one. If you don’t believe me, try it out for yourselves. And this is not true just in the case of physical activity. It holds true in anything you do in life. Try doing something with a person who has no fight in him and gives up at the first sign of an obstacle. You would almost automatically start losing interest in the activity and will give up too. Watching the person next to you give up is enough to demoralize you. The phrase “never give up” is a powerful one and trust me, its easier said than done.

The workout gets tougher. The intensity has increased. But, I somehow manage to keep myself motivated. I want to keep pushing myself. I want to take up bigger challenges. I don’t want to ever give up. I want to keep fighting till the last breath. We’re nearing the final stages of our training. My trainer’s words of wisdom again run across my mind, “there is a beast inside every man. As you train here, you build the beast within you. And when the time calls for it, you wake it up from its slumber.” And I can feel the transformation from a man to a beast. I can feel that aggression, that spirit after putting myself through that ordeal.

The training is done and I learn the techniques for the day. My mind doesn’t go anywhere else. I watch in wonder and amazement, yet pay undivided attention as my trainer performs the various techniques because deep down I know this is what I want to do in life. I also know that I’m learning a life skill. And as all these thoughts race through my head, before I know it, the class is done. We do the traditional bow and pay our respect to the art.

As people bid goodbye to their mates, I go sit in a corner. I reflect on what I’ve learnt. I can almost feel a sense of triumph within me. I feel confident that I can fight. There is some part in me that tells me that I’m invincible, though I know its far from true. But, I like listening to it. I walk out of class, into the street. My trainer’s reference to us as warriors flashes by. I stop by and think about it. I now realize the true essence of those words. It’s time to head home. I wanna be the epitome of manliness. I wanna embody the sportsman spirit and I walk across the street with my head held high. I go to bed a happy man knowing, that another day of my life has passed and I’ve done something worthwhile, something that makes me feel like a winner. But, it doesn’t end here….. For, after all, I’m a warrior. I live to fight another day…

ART IN THE CITY…

Lalbagh recently hosted the annual flower show for the year 2013 as part of the Republic Day celebrations in the city. And fortunately enough, I had the opportunity and pleasure of visiting it. It was a truly mesmerizing experience. Gardening is an art and this was such a unique and classic portrayal of that art. The flower arrangement and decorations were splendid to say the least. The main attraction of the day was the Eiffel Tower. As beautiful as the original structure is, this was no less. It was simply put, one of the grandest flower displays ever. This Eiffel Tower was perhaps good enough to be chosen as the ninth wonder in the world. Flowers are, by nature, a beautiful natural phenomenon. And when used the right way, their charm is beyond what words can say. Here are some of the pictures that I managed to take. And as beautiful as these pictures look, trust me when I say, the magic of seeing it live is something totally different. 

The second main attraction of the show was this lady gorgeously draped in flowers…

The Eiffel Tower

But, the show doesn’t end here. Outside the glasshouse which hosted the flower show, were numerous stalls portraying various kinds of artefacts and handicrafts. Some of them were so intricately and brilliantly crafted that they left you dumbfounded and yet, were so thought-provoking at the same time.

An idol of Lord Ganesh made of coconut skin..

These flowers are made of wood. Full of sparkles, I was completely taken aback when I learnt that they are made of wood. I've tried my best to capture the sparkles although I wasn't too successful..

Lamp shades made of jute…

These are some of the many artefacts that I got to witness that day. I have always been fascinated by art and believe that the power of art is incredible. Art can move you, art can mesmerize you. It can throw you off your sensibilities. Art can inspire you and art can send you into the deepest of thoughts. Art brings out feelings and emotions like no other medium. Art can truly be enchanting. And the Lalbagh flower show was art in its most powerful and enchanting form. It was art at its pure best. The 2013 Lalbagh flower show was one of the grandest ever and is sure to leave Bangaloreans wanting for more… 

OF LOVE AND WAR…

I

I was walking through the battlefield.

The war had come to an end.

Our side was triumphant, their’s defeated.

But as I looked at the horrific sight,

I thought to myself,

Was there really any winner?

Bodies strewn all over,

faces crushed.

Limbs separated,

women and children weeping,

over unrecognizable masses that once belonged to someone they loved.

Predators as hungry as ever,

feeding upon the remains of a once heroic warrior.

The battlefield had turned into a stream.

A stream of blood,

a stream of pain,

a stream of misery,

a stream of never-ending darkness.

Was there any victor in all of this?

Is this what is called triumph?

II

Sick of this world,

I lost all desire to live,

as I made my way through the agonizing mess,

out of the battleground.

I walked into the forest that led off it.

I knew not where I was going,

nevertheless I pushed myself along.

My head was spinning,

my heart was aching,

my limbs numb,

drops of blood trickling through the corner of my eye.

My entire body was burning,

it felt like I was walking through fire.

I was a broken man.

III

I looked at the heavens,

where many claim,

there is eternal hope and everlasting joy,

I wished I could fly.

IV

It was dusk.

Soon the sun would fade into the horizon.

And darkness would take over the world,

just like it had eloped my life.

I seemed to have lost my voice.

My mouth was dry,

almost begging for a saving drop.

My knees were giving in,

I could carry myself no longer.

But hope came knocking at my door,

like a saving grace.

V

I saw a cottage in the distance dimly lit.

And in my dismay, the spot-sized light looked like a star.

It seemed to take forever.

But, I pulled myself with all my strength,

before finally reaching the door.

The door was ajar.

I cared not to knock.

I walked in and collapsed.

VI

I opened my eyes,

and I could vaguely see,

a shadow moving across the hall towards me.

As the figure approached closer,

what I then saw was beyond what words can say.

She was dressed in fiery red,

her face had a deep radiance.

Her eyes had a depth of calm,

her hair flowing almost majestically.

She sat herself beside me,

dipping a piece of cotton into something that looked like herb.

She wiped my wounds and softly blew at them.

And as I looked at her,

she gave me a breath of life.

VII

Suddenly, our gazes met.

She looked at me and smiled,

and I could sense mischief twinkling in her eyes.

All I had asked her for was my life,

but she gave me something more than that.

Something more precious than life,

something that would make this life worth living.

I looked back at her and smiled.

And in that one moment,

there was love.