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Saturday, December 25, 2010

Happy Christmas!

It's already Christmas and soon, we're going to turn to a new calander. Honestly, I'm really glad this year is over. Its's been an extremely eventful one, but not always for happy reasons. The luck department seems to be on an all-time-low. The new year better give it good business!

Christmas, although, is the happiest time of the year. I love it, and I've always done something new, different or fun, on every single christmas. We still maintain the tradition of decorating the christmas tree, and I always hang a sock, which no more gets filled with surprise gifts, but it's fun doing it all the same. This year we went to an orphanage, close to my place. What an expreience it was!

It's strange how we picture a gloomy setting, with depressed kids dressed in white gowns, sitting in a dining hall, waiting to be fed , when we say the word "orphans". It's probably because we think them as unfortunate and decide to sympathise/empathise with them. This feeling of supremacy masquerading in the guise of pity, is such a typical  "higher beings" feeling. I'd say, I've never seen a happier bunch.

Around 40 of them, tearing the house down with their scheeches, laughter, and innocent madness , only reminded me of my childhood. What is the difference between me and them. Seeing them, the difference seemed like a thin line. But a very noticible one, ofcourse. They were survivors, they are fighters. And they, are truly happy to be alive.

A group of volunteers were there to celebrate christmas with them. A rather (underfed) looking Santa was jumping on the balls of his feet, puncturing the constant babble with a "ho ho ho!", and an over excited and fascinated child would go poke his tummy at regular intervels, with his mouth open. They were  rounded up later and taught the christmas carols, in Hindi. How they translated and made the hindi version of all the carols, is beyond me. But it was such a delight to watch it, all the same. While the lady who runs the place was telling us about the magnitude of her responsibilities and her the constant struggle to get these children to go to regular schools, I was torn between  floating emotions of sadness and a mad desire to laugh. Who can imagine these little nutters going through any problems at all! They seemed more happy than I ever was, when I was little. Plus seeing all 40 of them, together, looked like a perpetual, non-exhaustive party.  Remember Mr. India? :)

I'm really looking forward to new year. It's going to be awesome, I already know it (like tradition goes, I'll never say it). That's one thing I was looking forward to. There's another thing. My music classes. My guitar sits in front of me the whole day. It's dark marronish. It's pretty hot. But it's rather upset at the lack of use. Worry not Mr....Anonymous (you will be christened soon, I promise), you're going to be singing a new tune, EVERYDAY.

That's all for now. I shall be updating soon. All the love and hugs and all that jazz.

Tchus.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Mary Elizabeth Frye

I came across this beautiful poem. And I couldn't resist posting it here, because I do not intend on forgetting it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,


I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The inside and outside of Facebook.

I came across this article, which just aptly reflects my thoughts and doubts about one's life inside the facebook page, and outside it.  A good read, which incidently also talks about another interesting topic- The Imposter Syndrome.

Read it at lesiure.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/dec/11/change-your-life-online-friends

Thursday, December 02, 2010

Walking Through the Corridor of Time

I've got a hunger
Twisting my stomach into knots.
That my tongue has tied off.

My brain's repeating
"If you've got an impulse let it out"
But they never make it past my mouth.

Bop ba,Bop ba, this is the sound of settling
Bop ba, Bop ba...

It's been a while since I rediscovered anything-music, art, writing, places, pictures, etc.

There's something about rediscovering things. Almost eveything that is hardwired for us to know, feel  is nothing but through memories. I don't know when I learnt how to cycle. Or swim. But when I do it again after decades, I know I can connect with those first-time, emotions of when the let-go happened- an impulsive second of recklessness, freedom and unbounded joy.

I've been in Delhi for a while now. This place I call home. Home that is so wonderfully comfortable and so understandably flawed. I've loved it while my foundation years where making me what I am today. I've hated it while I've been away. And today, I know I'll still be cynicle, criticizing, and... appreciative. I'll never accept it's beauty while I walk on  it's roads with sprawling greens on either sides, and travel in the clean, shiny tracks with crooning voices inside. Outside this city where I'll leave my 21 years, my life, my world, and my past, I'll know it is irreplaceable.

We were on our usual job hunt, and Hotness and I were roaming the streets of Hauz Khaz.

Hauz Khaz is not a part of your usual Delhi. It is like a mini hill station inside the very city. The obvious temperature drop, the narrow, long road uphill and crowded array of almost squashed shops, cafe's and tea stalls, can't help but lift your spirits. Sometimes you wonder why people would be happy to have a one square feet, tiny shop that offers never-seen before curios, artifacts, and antiques, in a place which is so far away from the main city where civilization exists. Maybe because of it's exclusivity. But a romantic would tell me-it's the intoxification and irrevocable nature of the air that induces the drug of love... Death over seperation.

The ruins are so peaceful, and so calm, that you'd feel unnerved for a moment. Someone has walked those inside roads, run across the arch ways , sang the song of dusk and climbed down the rocky steps, to wave a goodbye to the dying sun, sitting at the edge of the green lake. Life seemed to have left those ruins, centuries ago. But it's still not sad, and it is still not gloomy.
The ruins, still, breath.

As we walked down that road, we visited all the cute cafe's and shops. It is amazing what one can do with just enough space to accomodate 8 people, keep a kettle in the background and call it a tea shop. It is also amazing, how this place still seems to be so innocently hidden away from commercialization.

It is all in the beauty of rediscovering that you realize that often, things we leave behind might have had more to offer than we'd known. It is not called living in the past, mind. It is called having LIVED the past.

Tuchs! :)