Haze and Sky

In the middle of the chaotic afternoon, I take out these few moments to pause. and blog.

But while its been quite some time since I blogged last (three weeks?), I am unable to really pin down anything to write here. Yet so much seems to have happened. So much that had significance at that moment...and now appears a bit inconsequential. And in some cases, even silly.

I know that I busted my BP for a lot of things - inefficiencies by (supposedly) intelligent team members....bitchiness by (supposedly) close ones...secretive behavior by (supposedly) friends...coldness of (supposedly) developing companions...

I know that I laughed a lot. Esp when I bitched.

I know that I felt emotional. Esp when Sau looked at me and said "aisi bhi kya naraazgi?"

I know that I enjoyed myself. Esp when I danced to "disco deewane" after ages. And esp when I covered Blr to Chn in four hours.

I know that I blushed. When I got compliments, at work and at play.

I know that I missed some people. I know that I broke someone's heart. And I know that my heart was a little broken too.

But yet, it's all like a haze now. I just feel a little tired, a little wistful...in fact, pretty much like an old man sitting on the porch in the twilight, of the day and of his life!

But I know that's not true, it's just momentary. Tonight (or maybe tomorrow) the blood shall flow a little stronger, the spirits will rise again. The smile will be back in the eyes as well. And a spring in the step (or "josh in the jog" as radio city says). And the cycle will start again.

In the meanwhile, "a fountain empties itself into the grass" (Sometimes it Happens, by Brian Patten)

Water inside

The silence of a Saturday night shuts out the distractions and sharpens the hearing. There are ideas splashing under the surface...the flickers of a story waiting to come to light...the breathing of the words hiding behind the doors. Yet there they remain. And languish.

Like they have been doing for so long. For a decade, in fact. I cannot even pretend that they escape my grasp. For I don't seem to even make an effort at grasping them. Why I don't, I am not sure. Maybe it's difficult to sense their presence amongst all the noise that surrounds my life. Or maybe the flow got diverted when relationships took centrestage. Or maybe the comfortable tools got rusty and changed beyond recognition thanks to the conveniences of microsoft.

So what do I need to do? Find spaces of silence? Or retreat from the involvements? Or simply buy a nice diary and pen?

I doubt if the answer's coming soon or so easily. But I hope it does.

How are you

Who really means these words when they say it? Who really wants to know how you are?

Does he want to know that I am thinking about future career options? that I am feeling sick of modular furniture and power points? that I am feeling happy at having listened to my favorite song on radio? that I am contemplating whether to buy more light-white curtains from fabindia or save some money for car accessories? that as soon as I have free time, all sorts of thoughts enter my head and plague me? that I am thinking of the painful deaths I have witnessed in the past decade and the horror that accompanied each of them? that I would like to talk about what is more attractive - humor/intelligence or character?

It takes courage to genuinely ask a person "how are you" and wait to get the real answer. (normally one would use the word sensitivity, but I disagree. I think sensitivity is too passive. This requires being able to get out of your own world, put it aside and look into someone else's and understand it, absorb it with all its deficiences, accept and appreciate it. In other words, courage)

Cheers to the courageous people I know - Mum, L, U, Viv.