Of confusion, destiny, illusions, and sounds.

Sounds are the integral system of confusion.
Fearing the cacophony, the jingles of confusion are born.

Noises from the vocals of a reason ravaged generation. That is it that is so different from the lonely hobos of the yesteryears as opposed to their counterparts today. They sing in the same alleys, similar songs. Of love, riches, roofs and subway tickets.

Is Mr Sen correct in describing the illusions of destiny in a 198 paged book? Rather simplistic I feel. But probably not.
What I feel is ignorance is also the flip side of the beatific illusion called destiny.
I am inspired by Mr Sen.

So how is it that I aspire to relate sound, confusion and destiny?
Its rater simply depends on the following of the colours.
Dolphins and glassy water.
Scarlet windows beaconing me to climb a little lower into the water and attempt to touch the skies way below.
Not the reflections of the northern clouds but the reality of such illusions.

Thus comes the tap on the big doors of destiny fixed into contorted shapes…
Contorted shapes….
Confusing shapes…

Now that is where it struck me that these shapes were way too busy with vivid sounds to care for the reason ravaged voices.
Fear of the cacophony binds the strings of paralysis.

Waves crashed onto the brown rocks wearing the crowns of a thousand rich kings.
I stood on the realm of this kingdom.
Intoxicated, floating on the noises, confused, dazed, like a poor song, sung on the galleries of to few, attacked my the misers of the deaf.

The only connection between the noises that gave me this illusion of a confused destiny was a lyric. Which one, I forget. But it was lucid, mercury, and a silence of green eyes.

Orange windows and ice showers.
Ice mints in my mouth.
Ice mints in my mind.
Ice - ice - ice

I’m sweating snow!

Goa - !!!!!

The age old curse of the Goa monster has lifted. I only hope I do not speak too soon. 3 years since the day I stepped into college, I have been planning to embark on a magical journey down the golden beaches of Goa.

The real tragedy of my life resides in the fact that I’ve never seen the ocean.
Never.
So full of hope and expectations, I planed and I planed some more, bout how I’m going to catch a Volvo to Goa, rent a shack next to the waters, drink kings beers and read all the books I had not the courage to delve into. Wake up precisely at 12 in the morn/noon, swim, see a few great white sharks( but was told they kind of don’t like Goa too much), get seriously drunk and then puke out all the lobsters I had consumed before, and so and so forth.

Now I’m not the new-years-in-Goa type, I’d rather be there a few days after.
Love my space, my time, like some soppy infomercials. But its more personal. Being one, in the union of a few thousands, swarming the beaches and the parties, with exaggerated rates and deals, not my typical scene.

Thus, the 2nd Jan date with Goa.

Hope this works out, and I’m not too disappointed.

2.7 years of extensive experience in Mainframe Testing.

II really was not aware of this but as it turns out I have 2.7 years of extensive training, really, I do.

Some thing called “mainframe testing”.

I’m still grappling with this truth. To be very honest I don’t very much know what this really is, but as today the multiple cheers of the joyous ‘ Merry Christmas’ emulates from the collective voices of many a generations all over the spherical planet, I’m confident I can handle the real truth.

The real truth, mind you, not the unreal one.

Last night I really was very eager to go for midnight mass. Never been to one before. But unfortunately my aspirations of multi cultural understanding, from the respective view of a pseudo atheist were cruelly crushed.

After a few moments of visionary fog lifting, I came to the doorway of reason which told me that since Christmas denotes the birth of Christ and so and so forth, all this is actually bout J.C. but somewhere in the sands of the same festival, its been hijacked but Mr. Santa Claus. Its all but him now days, sure a few convent schools will put up plays depicting the manger, the Magi and the regular flowers. All parts played by grade 4 students, but they too on their return home wait for Santa to come bearing gifts.

So when did this hijack really occur. That is the question.

“mainframe testing”

Sounds very computer to me.

Where is your will to be wierd?

Its been a long time since I posted. A very long time actually. Delhi is over, Mumbai is over, Pune is the new city of joy. With its bad roads and non existent book shops, non a/c cyber cafes propagating online gaming, its trots along, peacefully. There is some soul here. Many will surely disagree, most likely, most will. Took me 3 years to reach this forlorn conclusion, yes, this conclusion is forlorn. Firstly this city is small. And is it tiny. The road density has its own private shoot-at-sight orders. It aims to kill. But then again that is the same old story of every small city deprived of a decent admin.

There is this inherent joy in complaining. Relieves us of the pressure of taking any potentially useful steps. The joy of pee-ing on the road and then critising the ‘Indian’ mentality the next time I cross the same lane that is now smelling of decomposing ammonia acids is liberating. (also for once the over eager chauvinists cant blame women at large. The absolute generalization fails, thankfully). Well, as a model citizen of this country I do not pollute public areas, at least not when I’m sober, but can this free expression of democracy be the true reason for the 13000 mark in the markets and a nearing 2 digit growth rate?

I wonder what my city would be without the thousands of two wheelers snaking its way through dead traffic, cursing and reving their engines…..

There is this area near college, where I happen to reside, thats popularly known as DBC. Short for Deep Banglow Chowk. It’s a typically crowded, shop infested locality where at first glance you’d wonder where all the flats are. The buildings are old, with rotting paint and exposed pipes and wires, trying desperately to show off the new coat of paint it just got(more often than not, it’ll be a bright flourescent yellow or such like) that will in all likely-hood be no existent by the next rain fall. Picture this: from my balcony you can see a green house with red lines meant for design purposes, to its left is a bright, sorry super bright yellow building , then a pink set of houses and lastly the balcony its self is blue with Hanuman orange doors and windows. There are a few coconut trees and a few palm trees, with enough imagination , we have an imitation of Goa(that’s mainly for the feel good factor).

DBC, always reminds me of Death by Chocolate in Corner House, Bangalore.

I live here, and I absolutely love this place, its convinient, close to therest of the world, as my room mate loves to say: its got the power of the three golden words – Location! Location! Location! But its more than that. Its home.

My greatest complain against Pune is the absence of western loos!! Why? Why? What is wrong with this world today. If you want a person to propogate nuclear disarmament , you’ll have to, I repeat, have to, give him his throne.

Every once in a while you rediscover this old passion. Some what like revisiting the childhood home, where you grew up and left behind for the big city. Not very unlike was the rediscovery of this place adjoining our college : the N.C.C canteen. It’s a magical place. I have wasted countless hours there, drinking its milky north indian chai and discussing the lousy ways in which our college operates.

Symbi! Oh Symbi!

There is this point in every humans life when they start question the standard replies to sterotypical questions. There is this lull, white noise, the requiem light, deafening and painful. Not loud nor silent, not even audible, a high pitch scream that only inaudible parts of our selves can register a response to. So I reached this point too. In my own time
and Assamese speed. Which is highly slow, by the way. I discovered that these were not my questions but of the city. The answers were somewhat fake. Disguised. Its said that deception is the best disguise, and its holds true here.

To put it simply, the way I prefer the Blossoms over all the Crosswords all over the sub continent, with its large glasses and fancy recliner chairs that beg you to stay and read is a marketing stroke of genius, the longer you sit there, the more your chances of picking up objects outside the agenda, but its substandard. Its like the notes I make to self or the New Years resolution that I’m going to make in 22 days. Its steel and glass.

Ever wondered how plastic cups starts leaking before the actually break.

Crash courses are another aspect of Pune that amuses me. It gives you a crash course in every thing , from friendships to wines, riding fancy bikes to auto tarrif cards readings. Its all here. I’ve spent 3 years here, 2 more are left, I often wonder, am I talking to my self again, like the first time I was going to get a tetnus shot, I told myself that the needle was too small and I was a few million times its size for fear to be a factor.

I forget the outcome of that needle chill.
Wisdom will come to me.

I will go jogging every morning.
I will have breakfast.
I will attend college
And get a first div.
I will not curse and I will clear German.
I will sing only while bathing.
I wont watch too much t.v.
I will wonder.
I will laugh at the newspapers optimism.
I will start drinking coffees instead.
I will start answering sterotypical questions
from the day after tomorrow.

On The Road : The Movie

Francis Ford Cappola is producing On the Road. Finally!

I’m a Cappola fan. Since Apocalypse Now to The Godfather Trilogy right down to eagerly awaiting for the Good Shepard. The guy is a genius. American Graffiti .. wow!!

That said , 2009 On the Road should be out. Long time , yes, but we’re getting there.