Blue Sunride is revelling in the pretty pretty world- today. She knows it may necessarily not be pretty and nice, but she is feeling happy about life and is generally in exceptionally high spirits. The world is a good place to be in today. There is freedom and choice in it.

She will now settle with her cup of coffee, scrambled eggs, toasts, a book, a dog at her side and John Mayer’s hopeful music and travel back in time. This weekend is all about nostalgia and promises. About the big plans and foggy mornings.

There is no better time to be me than now.

There are days when you want to be told that whatever it is- big or small, important or inconsequential.. just doesn’t matter. That everything will fall into its rightful place. That the hug you are getting will last forever and that the shoulders you rest your head upon will be there for ever.

There are days when you want to be no more the adult that you are expected to be. That you wish that you could go back to being a child just so that you could run uninterrupted and owe no responsibility to anyone.

There are evenings when you wish that little glitches of your life would disappear with the approach of the night and the slate be clean again as the newly-bathed skies in the dawn of the day. When you hope that tomorrow will be concrete, more fulfilled promise than the damp, dribbly nothingness that was today.

There are days when all you want is to be hugged and told that you can let go off all that is worrying you, just for sometime and a game of happy, joyous thoughts is possible- right then. That you bear no relation to your life and it is someone else’s headache. That you are fine and good and happy and a wonderful person even if the evidence points otherwise. That you will be loved no matter what. IN SPITE of everything that you say or do or think or believe in or desire or are.

When the heavens smile upon us

As promised….

A happy tree

For more of this and other stuff you can check this out

I have recently, resumed my sketching after well, 9 years. And needless to say, what the pencil is creating now is hopelessly disfigured. I have made about 4 sketches in the past one week. Someday when I can draw like a pro, I shall show you the before and after pics. Maybe we can have a good laugh then.

On a more productive front, I took really awesome pics yesterday. There was this unorganised cluster of clouds which had gaps in between and the sunbeams were breathtaking, believe you me. I think this deserves a pic. I will put it up tomorrow.

What is so arresting about the setting sun? There is such satisfaction in watching the sun recede slowly. There is such hope and promise in the duskiness of the day. Dawns mean so much less than the dusk. There is a serenity with the approaching night. Maybe, it is just about perspective.

Reading Adam Bede currently. It is after a couple of years that I am picking up a Classic. I used to thrive on them. But then I took a break. Read a bit of the contemporaries and the likes. Feels good to give my fertile imagination so much room to create pictures in my head. Oh! What I would not give to be able to paint the way I see the countryside or the Hall Farm or the orchards that are explained so beautifully. And what to say of the gentlemen and the damsels.

The dog was decidedly worried yesterday when I did not wake up to run through my morning routine before I head to office. There I was, half unconscious, lying on my bed. The alarms rang and shut up. The clock struck ‘8′ and moved on and yet … yet i was sleeping peacefully. Little did he know that I was taking leave from work. So the poor chap, in his worry first came and licked the hand hanging by the bed (mine obviously). Usually, that sends me into screaming spells at him. I told him politely to get the out of the room. After, some time, he returned and nudged me with his definitely VERY cold nose. Which earned him a few  ‘f-offs’.

Poor lad. When his worry got beyond manageable proportions, it was but natural he do what he did next. The dog got barking like there was no tomorrow. And they were, of course, aimed at me. But I am as, if not more, stubborn as him. I turned the other side and slept through all the noise he could make.

When I did, finally, get up, what a sight it was that beheld me! The dog was sitting next to the bed, with his face approximately about 12 cms from my face, tongue lolling out and the tail wagging in the most passionate strokes.

The bouncy dog that he is, began to jump up and down when he saw that I have woken up. Fetched most of his toys so we could play. I think he thought weekend had arrived early mid-week this one time. Who can blame him? He is, after all, just a dumb dog.

I walk from one room to the other in the house. Considering there are just 3 rooms, including the hall, there isn’t much distance to cover. And yet I do it, just to find something to keep me occupied.

The reason is this- my best friend, S (yeah, I am one of those losers who have best friends) has left the city on a well-deserved vacation. So basically I cannot really begrudge him his little holiday (just 2 weeks) which he has taken after one year in this city.

The problem with meeting some one day in and day out is that you get so used to their presence that you take it for granted. And when they leave you to yourself, there is nothing much that you can do to keep yourself busy. So you walk around the house in a magnetic stupor wondering when is it that they will turn up at your door.

The first day of “being left to myself” I actually managed to get on pretty well. Woke up. Was lost for about a couple of hours and then there was a merciful call from another friend. Was with people till late evening. And then I came home. And felt lonely. Really abysmally, hopelessly lonely.

And then the tears started streaming. And it was then that I felt really foolish. I mean, what is with me and my perspective! Some people (I am hoping there are others like me) have a basic problem. We exaggerate situations so much more in our heads. I am never just happy; it is a maniacal mirth. I am never sad; what I feel it depressing sorrow. I am not alone; I feel horribly lonely.

The next day was a bit better. I did up the house and played with the dog. And was generally cheerful.

Maybe this is a good time to be away from S. He will be leaving the city in March. Maybe this is my time to accept that fact that I would not have him around forever. And it is about time I deal with it before I make a complete wreck of myself.

Sometimes you are so close to people that you lose perspective. The life around you blurs to nothingness. And when they go away there is a blinding clarity which you don’t really want to deal with and maybe, you don’t have the courage to. There is meaning in your life because of them. And without them it is a naught. That is a problem. Because life should have meaning in itself.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t miss S. I do. But I can deal with it now. I can get on with life.

I think today I will not walk around the rooms. I will figure out a way, instead, to bring the dog out of his depression at missing S.

PS: I STILL miss you S no matter how hopeful I am sounding here

From the muddy banks of my life, I look towards the bottom, towards the bottom of the river. And what I see is what I have sowed… it is fruiting now….from the muddy banks of my life I look towards the sky and it has imbibed an intimidating shade of black. The heavens are not benevolent any more..

From the muddy banks of my life, I look at the other side of the symmetry. The other side of this imperceptible mirror …. which shows not what I see but what I should… I look at the ground beneath my feet. From the muddy banks of my life I see that my feet do not rest on the ground. They float and take my whole being with them. They rest just a few inches away from the comfort zone. Would I have been happy with the feel of earth below my feet? Would I?

From the muddy banks of my life, I post songs to the heavens.  Not of hope or prayer. But of learnings and dialogues that I gathered while coming to these banks. I send visions that I had had once upon a time. That I thought were true but were only a figment of my imagination… nothing more than flakes of hope..nothing less than wisps of smoke…amount to a void that is as immense as the bottomlessness of despair and loss.

From the muddy banks of my life, I  take a dive into the river.. the river that is called ‘I COULD HAVE BEEN’.  I take a dive into the river that could have been an assimilation of my essence if only it could have been. But it is a proof of my wishes and desires and the prospects that never materialised.

They greet me and laugh…laugh that they own my dreams and my happiness .. they laugh that they won against me.. they jump up and sit on the muddy banks of my life and laugh.

And I fight the mire and the weeds…. I fight the demons and the imps… I fight the evil and the good…. I fight the walls that engulf me and strangle me.. the roots that hold me and the wings that bind me….

I think i go too far… the flow of water is damning.. the control is lost and I am no more than a dead insect controlling his fate…the current takes me where the fields are grey and the the crows feast on your heart first … it pushes me towards that oblivian that could have been a blessing… I try to counts the stars above but the canvas is devious… as i get goaded into the nothingness of my existence… and I see the muddy banks of my life slip into a stupor as intoxicating as mine..

He remembers the day he had learnt to ride the bicycle without support for the first time. The joy of riding on your own without the subtly crippling side wheels. He can feel the happiness surging through his limbs. Unadulterated joy. He had turned to wave to his mother and had suffered the nastiest fall ever. The gravel on which he had skidded was relentless. Skinned knees and elbows could not take away the joy from the moment that was truly his. So before his mother could rush to him and get worried, he heaved himself up, picked up his bicycle and was once more on his way to explore his limited world. He doesn’t know why it is this particular memory that comes to his mind now.

He shifts his gaze from the fan to the corners of the wall. He expects to find something there. But destiny is not written in the nitty gritties of architecture. He almost does not want to die. But the moment the thought strikes him, he knows he will give that ultimate push. After all, what is there to live for apart from the everyday drudgery of his life. And that doesn’t seem like a reason enough.

“ Twister shake hand. Shake hand. Shake hand, Twister. Shake hand. Shake hand kuku. Twister shake hand….” and it started with that.

In the meanwhile, the dog would look at me and the friend with a very worried expression. His thoughts- “What is up with these two today? What are the weird noises they are making? Why does it sound like ‘ Enk And’? What should I do to make them stop? …aarrrgh .. I am getting irritated. If I put my head down, will that help? Let me try.

(Puts his head down). Why have they begun standing? Why are they standing? Are we going somewhere? Am I supposed to stand? Oh! Why can’t they just shut up? If I stand will they give me a treat? Let me try.

(The dog stands up). Errr… They are sitting now. Again, the ‘Enk And’… what is that? Why are they touching my paws? Why are they so confused? Why are their eyes protruding from their sockets? Why do they have to shout out their ‘Enk And’ every time they look at me? ‘Guys, can we go back to playing fetch?’ Doesn’t look like it. If I wag my tail, will it help? Let me try.

(The dog wags his tail). No. they are really up to something, these worthless humans. ‘Enk And’ again!! WTF is it supposed to mean? If I bark at them, will it help?

(The dog barks at us.) They are looking at each other. Now they are looking at me. They are so close to my face now. Argggh… The ‘Enk And’ again. If I put my paw on their mouth will they shut up? Let me try.

(The dog tries to put his paw on our face. We feel successful. We think he has begun to understand the concept of ’shake hand’). Oh! They are bloating with happiness. They are clapping each other on the back. Why? Because I told them to shut up? No no … they can’t be happy about that. ‘Enk and’…. let me try to shut them up again.

(The dog puts his paw forward. We put forth out hands to collect it.) OH! Now I get it. If they make ‘Enk And’ sound, I am supposed to make them shut up. That makes them happy. OH! In human language, Enk And substitutes for Shut-up. I tell you, these humans are dumb. But thankfully, I cracked this cookie. I mean they voluntarily want me to shut them up by giving them my leg. Sounds fine to me.”

I got this in a forward. And I love it.

There  comes a point in your life when you  realize:
Who  matters,
Who never did,
Who won’t  anymore…
And who always will.

Some day I shall tell you guys what a failure I have been all my life. It is so much worse to not see that changing. A feeling of doom. What is the point of even trying to fight it? A life spent in fighting the odds has any more worth than that? Isn’t it just a-life-spent-in-fighting-the-odds? Nothing more glorious. Just another life.

Books have me hooked as of now. There is much to read and very less time. Sometimes, I try to describe this rush. I cannot. I am not dying today. I have nowhere to go. And yet…… the rush. Though I am getting frustratingly disgusted with this sedentary life. It is still. Deathly still. And so I have decided to get off my rather shapely ass and do some travelling around Bangalore. Mind you, the word travelling is being used here with a shameful reluctance and a rather over-estimated, hopeful, pretentious abandon. But we all are shallow most of the times. This is my moment to flaunt it.

We begin with Bangalore darshan. Stop laughing. No, really stop. “I should know this city well”, this is what triggered the above plan. I am lying. I have very less time to devote to wanderlust. So I thought I might as well begin with the city. And then move on to more ambitious sojourns. Why am I boring you people?Why o why? Because I am hopelessly self-centered.

Did I tell you I am fascinated with Hitler? Not in the ‘wanting-to-follow-him’ way. But generally. You have to give it to the man. He brainwashed so many people and had them toeing his line. Sometimes, I feel that if I would have been given an opportunity like how the one he got , I may have done in a few people I don’t like. Just settle old scores. Why does it surprise me that I could be demonically evil? Why do we like to believe we are inherently good, sane people who would never do what the villians of history did? I think we are really wrapping the wool around our eyes, if we genuinely believe that.