My 1s around 2

Stairs...my second-hand koala in one hand..I race down..screech-halt at the third step...a scrap of paper on the floor...a targeted leap and yo behold! I land on it...a little victory dance and i wait for applause.I am plainly told that I had just stamped God and to ask forgiveness I had to touch the paper and then my head. It has stuck onto me...my first lesson.

Festoons...Arrays of stocked shelves...people swarming...me walking around dazed...several things fascinated me in the supermarket...until i bumped into it.I took a few steps back and froze. A very strange creature... ghastly red all over and it moved..to my horror ,towards me. The next thing I remember is that I was in tears ,perched on my dad's shoulders. Heartless beast, it trailed me all the way out and didn't leave till it squeezed a toffee into my tight fist. A brief encounter with santa...my first terror.

Some movie...I learn that all people born on earth have to leave...My mind is a mess...strange thoughts confound me...my eyes are shut tight...I ask for two tea-spoons of the magic potion that allowed God to be eternal...One for dad and one for mom...I guess it was only minutes later that I realised I was no favorite exception...my first prayer.

My sister and I...tagging along with a neighbour-aunty to a nearby shop. Inspite of repeated instructions on good manners,I couldn't resist asking aunty to get me a chocolate... which my loving sister reported at home. I was condemned to an hour of silence in the darkest corner under the stairs. I fell asleep...my first punishment.

Golden flowing hair...bright blue eyes...a white dress matched with a pink sash and dainty pink stilettoes...the sweetest smile...my first barbie...my first love.

Lunch time...in school...the nap after lunch...i pretend to sleep knowing that my teacher would take a break for the loo...She does and I am up...my 'gang' behind me...beat the hell out of a poor thing there...unfortunately for me, my teacher had changed her mind about the loo...was it a glare or sheer shock on her face...not sure now...but my expression must have won the prize in the room if a competition had been held...my first crime.

Its strange how certain things leave an imprint in your mind.Many a times, the actual period or place or incident or the people involved or the words uttered escape the mind. Yet lingers vividly...the way it made you feel...

Kuku klok

Fancies are transient. Wonder invariably is adulterated by reason. Period always pitches in and ridicules the moment into history. Yet, nurtured from my oldest memory I have managed to shelter an affinity. An affinity to cuckoo clocks.

I have related to it at several sane and insane moments… A living reminder of the hidden spirit that sustains every inanimate element…/A spark that invigorates the mind by flashing at once all the people whom we took for granted forgetting what it was that kept us going…/ A teasing, vain charmer that makes a brief appearance and retreats leaving behind the chill after a warm shower…/ A screened peek into the secluded world of solitude at its blissful, seemingly peaceful, strangely chaotic and mystical best…/ A precious lesson on speaking up and acting appropriately at the right time…/

And also ingrained in me for a lifetime that mountains could flow with grace, that fire could freeze, that sunflowers would look up in the night , that stings could bring a smile …..that I could dream wild …That cuckoos could be in red.

I realized its sheer vitality and hold over me when finally I saw it for the first time in my real world …a few days ago in a new atmosphere amidst people I was meeting for the first time…I was feeling a little strange and then the clock chirped one.

I looked up in Utter dis-belief …

The owl and the pussy-cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?
"They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will.
"So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

-Edward Lear (1812–1888)

Are we us??

When are we ourselves ? We might think that there are certain people in our lives in whose company we can let go of every inhibition and thoroughly indulge in what we believe is "ourselves".But are we really us ? Isn't there a shade of pretense, an effort to force mannerisms, and an over-powering impact of the environment? Don't we actually emanate insinuations of the person we want to be instead of what we actually are?

Ever seen a person sleep? I mean actually WATCHED them for a period enough for you to realise that beyond the helplessness ,vulnerablity and seemingly peaceful state ,there is a person with no guise. Well...there are dreams,there are nightmares and since it is the mind at play,I am not saying that we can rule out the possiblities of "dramas" there. Try waking them up gently.It is at that split moment of flight where one leaves his fantasy land and enters the world of chaos that he is HIMSELF. You can see it in the eyes,the realisation slowing sinking in as the mind is grabbed by the physical world again. "Sleep like a baby"...rightly said,very rare that your heart doesn't go out to them unless your ofcourse highly insensitive.

Before sunrise

I happened to “listen” to a movie. Why I didn’t get to see it, I choose not to disclose for the moment . But I daresay that the moral of the story is that blunders always happen for a reason and more often than not the experience leaves behind a lingering effect.

In my case …. enthralling. The movie’s title, which I made out from the block letters on the disk was “Before Sunrise”. I liked the sound of it instantly. Definite yet mysterious. Simple yet complex. My imagination soared. That was just a humble start. A minor prelude to the mind-boggling sequence that I had no idea was about to take me on a crazy spin.

I was the creator. The producer. I played the key role in screen-play. Costume design? My arena. Camera ? Who else! I picked up the faces for my cast. With every line I heard from the movie, the faces , the colour of hair and the hairdo , the location , the passersby evolved to make it perfect. I could See The movements. The expressions. The gestures. The passion. The grievance…. Nostalgia. ..Excitement and what not.At this juncture I have to give credit to the script and the voices that not only initiated the trip but also made it exciting and beautiful. In essence the movie was about a couple who met by sheer chance and discovered each other.

Wasn’t it Oscar Wilde who said that “God lives in the details” ? Well….could not have been truer. I felt like God.

Where are we ?

It was August and the sun was at its peak in St.Michael's Abbey,Italy. It was my first time in a foreign nation and I loved every bit of it. I am not going to try to explain the beauty of the place because there are times when emotions overpower the senses and language founders. I stood there feeling consumed.

Back home, the media has been incessantly telecasting global achievements. Outsourcing had crept in big time. Political leads raved about planning and vision. The target to be met has always been the target which some other nation had already achieved. A constant reminder of "Our Plight".

Yet, standing there in a foreign land I had an irrepressible urge to know where we actually stood in their eyes. Whether it was plain curiosity or a need to take pride, I am not sure...but I wanted to hear it firsthand from someone whose words would not be biased. Dominico, a grey haired ,expressive philanthropist , a very good friend from the restaurant we visited everyday and our guide for the day fell silent when I asked him.

"I not fink that…but many...India here looks a third world country"...he managed. Did someone say you need grammar to make sense? I've heard that expression a zillion times before. But never had it stung so hard. I was in a land where several people deep down believed that India, my own country was third world. Being rated was something I could never understand. ..With all due respects for the gentleman, inspite of myself I wanted to slap him.

I think when I was out there amidst them, I felt responsible for my country like never before. I was fiercely possessive, strangely patriotic and always looking out for insinuations that could reassure me and a little petty voice inside me would say "India has that...or... at least We don't do that...". I think it is true for most of us.

The realisation is always there floating above us…but it takes a lot for it to sink in.