Something of Myself
Monday, October 29, 2007
Lone man standing at the top, nowhere to go but straight down under! What a ride it has been for so long…crestfallen he rose again and again and again to combat unbroken rules, unspoken agreements, and unsaid arrangements. Challenge was his skill and risk-taking his forte. He hardly won, but he left with a pleasing smile that told his spectators that the fight was worth their salt (or money or whatever).
But now, at the brink of another beginning he finds himself alone. The exchange of swords or roses mean nothing to him anymore. For in 2007, you are what your pay slip says you are. Your worth is exactly what they term as ‘cost to company.’
It’s difficult, at this age and time to come up again and stare below. They are fools who take pride in reaching the top because once you’ve reached your spot, hammered the nail on the soft ground and cleaned your dirty boots, there is nothing much to do, and you are left only to look at yourself.
What then can be a good plan to move forward? To re-built? What motive can one have when emotions run dry, and when the individuals that made life bearable have left for the day (with no promises of return)? What meaning can you attach to a mission that is devoid of any objective? What glory to the fame that is bought at the cost of dear ones?
I, personally have not known him for decades. Our association began since the world feared the Y2K bug…I was constantly charmed by his never-say-die spirit…Odysseus and all that…but now it saddens me to see him like this. I tried reaching out and lending an ear, but he had no tales to share…I tried engaging him in a dialogue, but he had no words to mince…I tried touching him softly to tell him I was around, but he stood away so far, I could not reach him.
These things he said, leaving me with his memories: ‘all experience is an arch, wherethr’o gleams that untraveled world/ whose margins fade forever and forever as I move…’
But now, at the brink of another beginning he finds himself alone. The exchange of swords or roses mean nothing to him anymore. For in 2007, you are what your pay slip says you are. Your worth is exactly what they term as ‘cost to company.’
It’s difficult, at this age and time to come up again and stare below. They are fools who take pride in reaching the top because once you’ve reached your spot, hammered the nail on the soft ground and cleaned your dirty boots, there is nothing much to do, and you are left only to look at yourself.
What then can be a good plan to move forward? To re-built? What motive can one have when emotions run dry, and when the individuals that made life bearable have left for the day (with no promises of return)? What meaning can you attach to a mission that is devoid of any objective? What glory to the fame that is bought at the cost of dear ones?
I, personally have not known him for decades. Our association began since the world feared the Y2K bug…I was constantly charmed by his never-say-die spirit…Odysseus and all that…but now it saddens me to see him like this. I tried reaching out and lending an ear, but he had no tales to share…I tried engaging him in a dialogue, but he had no words to mince…I tried touching him softly to tell him I was around, but he stood away so far, I could not reach him.
These things he said, leaving me with his memories: ‘all experience is an arch, wherethr’o gleams that untraveled world/ whose margins fade forever and forever as I move…’
Sunday, October 07, 2007
It's been quite a while since I scratched on the wall. So methinks this be a good time to do so!
Just got back from Mumbai - it's changed so much since the last time I visited. Back then, I despised it, for it was too big for me to find my place. This time, it was more welcoming. Almost a parallel. The motorways and the narrow streets (of course, it reminded me of high streets)...you can almost feel the complete abundance of wealth, and the incompleteness at the same time. It comes at you, and you really have to dig yourself in a newspaper or an excel sheet to miss the same. Mumbai was alive and dead, almost at the same time.
[...]
It was that time of the year again when I went down to the temple and performed the duties of being the Hindu son. Remembering him for it was official time to do so! It did not sting this time. Perhaps because I am used to the pain by now...I have to deal with a certain absence for all the while that I am moving and breathing. So what do you do with it? You learn to live with it. And together with that all the rest of the people whom you knew, loved, liked, lost and let go...Their absence remains, constantly poking me at the odd corners of my being and reminding me of my weaknesses and failures. Although, it's seriously not that depressing, cause I have often found myself smiling silently, at myself, remembering that slight odd thing that made me burst into laughter back then...
* * * * *
I have often played with the idea of bringing down this wall that I write on...pushing myself to make new beginnings and not look back. Blame it on my genes - I carry the burden of my past. Of a collective past. They know I do, and yet when faced with my memories, when faced with my sudden presence, a flash of me that passes by them, they frown, flinch and turn away. Not surprising then, that I, in my darkest alleys have now learnt to cope, to manage...Like Mumbai, alive and dead, almost at the same time.
Just got back from Mumbai - it's changed so much since the last time I visited. Back then, I despised it, for it was too big for me to find my place. This time, it was more welcoming. Almost a parallel. The motorways and the narrow streets (of course, it reminded me of high streets)...you can almost feel the complete abundance of wealth, and the incompleteness at the same time. It comes at you, and you really have to dig yourself in a newspaper or an excel sheet to miss the same. Mumbai was alive and dead, almost at the same time.
[...]
It was that time of the year again when I went down to the temple and performed the duties of being the Hindu son. Remembering him for it was official time to do so! It did not sting this time. Perhaps because I am used to the pain by now...I have to deal with a certain absence for all the while that I am moving and breathing. So what do you do with it? You learn to live with it. And together with that all the rest of the people whom you knew, loved, liked, lost and let go...Their absence remains, constantly poking me at the odd corners of my being and reminding me of my weaknesses and failures. Although, it's seriously not that depressing, cause I have often found myself smiling silently, at myself, remembering that slight odd thing that made me burst into laughter back then...
* * * * *
I have often played with the idea of bringing down this wall that I write on...pushing myself to make new beginnings and not look back. Blame it on my genes - I carry the burden of my past. Of a collective past. They know I do, and yet when faced with my memories, when faced with my sudden presence, a flash of me that passes by them, they frown, flinch and turn away. Not surprising then, that I, in my darkest alleys have now learnt to cope, to manage...Like Mumbai, alive and dead, almost at the same time.
