If my desires were a song
It would be an endless ballad
If my thoughts were a day
It would have a thousand hours
If my happiness was a river
It would meander along the world

Quintessentially Indian

Indian Society is a collective society. You might have read that somewhere. Geert Hofstede and his study of cultures with IBM employees came to the same conclusion. What might that mean now? It translates like this…We thrive on interfering in others business, are prone to excessive convincing, behaving like your best friend, force-feeding food to strangers among other things. Here is a list of some quintessentially Indian behavioural traits:

1. If you visit our house, we are programmed to force-feed you even if you don’t want to eat. If you don’t eat, we will be pissed. Very pissed.

2. We will ask incessant questions if we see that you are not opening up and will not cease until you have convinced us that you are indeed not troubled.

3. We love dancing. Wherever-Whenever. The more the merrier. And you’d better not be sitting or you are going to be carried to the dance floor.

4. We love taking vacations with our family even at age 30.

5. We love food. It makes our day. Obesity is my worst nightmare. We also love carrying food with us wherever we go.

6. From the moment we set our eyes on you, we behave like your best friends. Don’t worry we wont stalk you.

7. Once we have established that you are indeed our best friends, we would go on to insult you. Do not take this personally.

8. We are great at Math. Calculus here I come!

9. We are genetically programmed to be warm.

10. We love you.

On acceptance and forgiveness

There is religion and then there is an ostensible sense of morality to be adhered to in life, and boy can this be tedious. You’d think that with all these compasses directing an individual would certainly not feel astray, but surprisingly, the reigns of such religious or social institution fetter us more than liberate us.

Maybe the meaning intended has been lost somewhere down the hundreds of years, maybe humanity is guided by commercial pursuits to such an extent that it construes all wisdom as it deems suitable, which of them is applicable, if at all, I can not aver. However, there are individuals and schools of thought existing today, that make us realise how the chaos of the world plays with us, instilling in us a feeling of helplessness. Eckhart Tolle, talks of acceptance and forgiveness in his book the “Power of Now”, whilst in his other book “A New Earth” he talks of how unconsciousness among humans in terms of ego gratification and competition and how it leads to conflicts, chaos and unhappiness.

I wonder why we are not taught important things like forgiveness and acceptance, and instead are encouraged to propel onto paths of competition and achievement. This works as long as one is in effect attaining something, but the minute the accolades and achievements cease to come our away, we become distraught, caught in our ego circles, not willing to accept the defeat, chastising ourselves for the mistakes we have made, and blaming others alternately. Maybe it is time to question our deeply entrenched ways of existing, our mechanically socialised responses, and for once, let this moment be as it is and not resist it.

Attempt at Poetry in Spanish

So I wrote my first poem in Spanish, only to realise later, that there is a song by Marc Anthony which starts very similarly, and has a generous usage of "cuando (When)" and "Sueno (Dream)" in it, just like my intended poem.
Anyway, I am no Marc Anthony, So I can safely post my poem on my blog without being hounded by the music industry for a calling in the song-writing business..

Recuerda me cuando
Estoy no con tigo
Recuerda me en tus sueños
Cuando hay nubes oscuro en el cielo
Recuerda me cuando escuchas,
Escuchas mi cancion favorito
Recuerda me a veces,
Recuerda me, como recuerdo ti.

.......

Remember me when
I'm not with you
Remember me in your dreams
When there are dark clouds in the sky
Remember me when you hear,
Hear my favorite song
Remember me sometimes
Remember me, as I remember you.

....

And for those who want more...

Marc Anthony Lyrics: http://www.metrolyrics.com/recuerdame-lyrics-la-5-estacion.html

An ode to the Charles Bridge

Our forefathers,
Create history;
The castles and the wars.
Our fathers,
Study history;
The beauty, the pitfalls.
Us, today,
We see the history;
A story, a picture;
On the bridge, as the night falls.

Words

My words, stumble
On a sentence
In a song
In an ambush of emotions
Through a sermon so long

My words, snowball
In euphoric success,
In an excited stupor,
When they must confess.

My words, elude
In the realm of love,
In peaceful existence,
The words, they learn.

It's not about where you're from
It's about where you're going
It's not about what you've done
But what you're doing..

Forgive yourself for your past,
Breathe a sigh of relief,
You're new everyday
Today is your belief.

There is much to do,
And much to see,
Drown the baggage,
Set sail free.

Excerpt from "Packaging Dreams"

Packaging Dreams- the book that I essentially call Work-in-Progress.
Maybe I will finish it. Someday.

Bloise, France

Saturday

We have shunned express highways for state highways, windy one lane roads that promise stretches of pristine verdure and placid canals, sheep and herds of the like grazing naively oblivious to the speeding cars, and little cottages with smoke billowing out of the chimney, making my stomach growl with hunger as my mind conjures up images of crepes and broths. Our destination is Amboise. An hour or so from Bloise. The map is our aid, Samarth our messiah, and me -just the usual driver. Smriti offers a cookie which I graciously accept; Ankur offers driving advice, which I petulantly ignore.
After some polemical crossings and turns we finally arrive in Amboise. It is the city that houses Clos Luce Manor, where Leonardo Da Vinci lived in his final days.
The city is small even by my standards ( people call me a midget sometimes) yet its abuzz with activity. The ‘Amboise on ice’ skating rink is a blur of colour and music. The cafes spill out on the road, people sit outside enjoying the overcast skies. As we make out way down the winding cobbled path in search for the Manor, the town strikes me as surreal, something straight out of a song in which a princess finds her prince, and they live happily in the their Chateau and take leisurely strolls in the town, stop in a Chocolaterie and indulge in some Rum flavored delicacies.
We manage to find out way to the Clos Luc Manor with some difficulty, the landscape comprises of wet grass, tall trees, swings, and replicas of Lenoardo Da Vincis inventions. There are radical water pumps, tanks, boats among other things, we let loose like children and prance around from one attraction to the other, climbing onto makeshift bridges, exploring contraptions with a curiosity that would have humbled George. The Manor is up ahead, we buy tickets and move on inside to get a glimpse of Da Vincis home. There are more models of his inventions constructed by IBM. There is the tank, the paddle boat and the swing bridge. So ingenuously designed. It is really awe-inspiring to be a part of this experience, to actually be at the very place where the man who painted the ever famous ‘La Gioconda’ breathed his last breath. History is made every minute, as I step down the stairs, observing the Manor, what it offers, the models, the rooms, I realize, with every new person who steps in, the history of the manor changes, the history of that individual changes.

Tempest Talk

This force inside of me
Doesn’t let me be
It’s a tempest this one,
Still it sets me free...

It’s a furious storm today,
Igniting thoughts away,
It’s a constant drizzle perhaps,
Engendering words so grey...

It’s a vortex this storm,
It’s a force so wild,
It inspires, it propels
This force inside...

Attempt at Haiku

Riding in the metro
We are like strangers
As winter fades

.........................

Contributions by KOTa


riding the wind
we are dreaming
the spring is here?

walking through the night
strangers become friends
shimmer of the summer awaits

the night is running out
we are worlds apart
autumn of our lives