Thursday, November 27, 2008

Colaba Attacked

Colaba,
Is a place,
That houses some few famous bars,
Plus some other random places,
Where people go and meet new faces….
It is like a haunt,
It’s where we chill and have good songs…
It’s where we meet when it’s been “real long”...


Mumbai is my city,
Although it isn’t green,
What happened here,
Is like a bad dream.

I felt my heart shatter,
As I saw the gun fire,
I didn’t know who was hit,
Because I was thankful i was the one who was missed.

I stood on the ground,
With my feet not moving, For a while,
I heard no sound.
People were running,
I knew something was amiss,
People were scurrying,
I knew I couldn’t dismiss.

Could it be a fight?
I thought, as I started running with all my might…
Can it be right?
To shoot without sight?
Who were you aiming at?
I wish I could ask,
What did I do?
And why do you want to shoot me to?

I ran from the scene,
I wasn’t very brave,
I just ran and screamed,
It was something I will deem.

The fear on everyone’s faces,
Made me feel so very underrated.
I knew not what to do.
I just wanted to come home,
I felt so crude.

We ran helter skelter,
We passed another scene,
We were at the Taj,
There was fire and there were more screams.

I needed to get away,
Needed to try to be away,
I ran a little more,
I wish I knew how to run faster,
Furthermore,
Moving seemed so tough,
With people being so rough,
Pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled,
Until I fell on the floor,
Feeling useless some more.

We got up to see,
Our world and life stop to breathe,
There was only chaos and you know, you see,
I could barely feel.

We ran a little more,
I couldn’t move anymore.
There were only scared faces,
The night had become tasteless.

I turned around to see,
Someone get shot right in front of me.
I froze right in between,
Wondering if that was what I had really seen..

I waited by a door,
I couldn’t move anymore,
There were only faces,
I couldn’t recognize the places.

I waited to be found,
This time I didn’t fight, I stood on the ground,
I couldn’t move or breathe,
I wondered what was happening to me.
Someone gave me water,
I threw it on the floor,
I leaned against the door,
Watching the cops run around more.

I stood and waited,
Till someone found me.
I could do nothing.
As my own city
Burned in front of me.

----

This is a true account of what happened in Mumbai during the 26/11/2008 attack.

I will never forget.

I had inputs from other people too.

May the deceased rest in peace

----



Thursday, October 30, 2008

Flowers and Chocolates vs a Diamond Ring

"...being surprised with a bouquet or even self made chocolates signifies more warmth, more feeling."
--- this article was published in the 16. September.2008 issue of AKS-India Enriched---

On some busy day in the middle of a busy week I took to asking a few people what was the first thought that come to their mind when they thought of chocolates…. Most of their reactions consisted of the drab-old: “I've seriously no idea”!In a sphere where most of us struggle to cope with the simplicity of life, others spend their time dieting or getting more materialistic by the day. Not that it's a bad thing either way. It's every individual's wish to be or not to be.What's one without the other?Well, it's probably the way the world's influence is moving… if I were to think about it, I would maybe and most probably rather be gifted a new phone, or car rather than a box of chocolates. This is what is called wishful thinking. Not that I am materialistic or anything… or maybe I'm getting there…
But rambl ings apart , what's really the sweetest is what comes straight from the heart. Right? If they say that diamonds are a girl's best friend, then THEY seriously have no idea what they are talking about!! (I'm not sure who “they” are though). In our own deeper reality, anyone of us would actually feel a lot warmer if we received a freshly parceled, just out of the oven, wrapped-in-red ribbon box of chocolates. (if wishes came true, we'd wish for the diamond on the side but jokes apart)…

picture this:Boy takes girl for dinner. Boy says girl looks nice. Girl smiles. Coyly. Boy smiles. Coyly. Boy suddenly surprises her with a heart shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers. Girl is speechless…. They lived happily ever after.

Picture that: Boy takes girl for dinner. Boy says girl looks pretty. Girl smiles. Coyly. Boy smiles. Coyly. Boy suddenly surprises her with a heart shaped box in which lies a “diamond” ring, Girl is speechless….

I asked a few people how they thought this one ended. Some of them hit me back by asking me the size of the ring. “It's fictional”, I responded. The rest of them asked if scene 1 was the 1st date or not (they felt that in the 1st few dates chocolates and flowers worked well) but not after.But, the majority said: if their better half, partner, boy / girl friend were to (even occasionally) surprise them with a colorful bouquet of sweet smelling flowers and a box of chocs… that would keep them floored for longer. And had they been surprised with diamond rings in place of bouquets and chocolates… then would they be floored? Their average answer: being surprised with a bouquet or even self made chocolates signifies more warmth, more feeling. The story here though, will not and doesn't rest any case. It's not a fight and it's definitely not a competition. It's just a casual story. On the lines of: to each their own. In the end, what matters is the true concept of the thought. Isn't it?

Monday, August 18, 2008

The Inner Layers vs the Outers and the deeper reality of it all.

(this article was published in the 1.September.2008 issue of AKS - India Enriched)
-----
A sunny sunday morning in one of the major commercial cities of a developing country would be, as any of you imagine it, a lazy day in the city life of most of the citi's-zen's. Waking later than usual, sipping the morning cuppa coffee as slowly as possible with the leisurely pace of nothing else to do but this, reaching for the newspapers and lying back in the couch thinking: maybe later on today....
But this isn't the only point of note on a sunny sunday morning of a fast paced commercial city in this developing country (or maybe even other developing countries) ,
Necessities of life have long since been redefined. Today, having a good / fast internet connection is a thousand times more important then having a full fledged grocery store nestled close to a new prospective house. The young here are out to get some more of everything, they look for fun, for frolic, for love and they race after life like a rat would a block of cheese.
But, when we say young, we write of and talk of the outer layer of the people in these cities. By outer layer, meaning, the ones who work hard (or pretend to!) without the baggage of problems weighing on their shoulders. This outer layer has within it, the rich, the rich -to be, the "were rich at one time", the young of the categories just mentioned and the old of the categories just mentioned. But, this doesn't comprise the actual reality of a city's life. Or youth.
In a country / or let's talk of the city: in a city of a 13 million plus, the mix is evident in every wake of every day. A 22 year old girl from one of the above categories, would ideally land herself a white collar job after a basic graduation degree, would still be living with her parents, but would "highten" her scope of life by feeling good that she now can and will buy herself better clothes, more often than when she was in college (just a year ago), go out randomly with friends, randomly, and be able to just do things without thinking twice. She would at times wish she could have got that bag rather than this one but would think it too expensive anyway because she wouldnt want to really blow her entire salary out on one bag (who would pay for the drinks tomorrow night)...would be her basic thoughts.
This is her story from the outer layer.

There's is another 22 year old girl, working in a clinic for Obesity Disorders, who gets paid some little keep sake amount only to operate the machines at the "office" * by operating, i mean, switching on and off.
There is no pity felt for this girl, because, she got a chance to go to college, but wasn't serious enough about gainfully gaining from an education. Yet, with her job, she is able to at least "go to work" and earn some feed to add to the family's income.
She is from what i'd call, the "inner layer".

Inner Layers in a commercial city of a developing country can have a country load of people who are the real strugglers of life, for whom, sunny sundays are a time to try to figure out how to earn some more money or maybe, save some more money, for whom, a sunday doesn't mean that there has to be a special lunch or brunch or dinner or a time to meet with friends to go to the movies....
The inner layers and their numbers are what really make up the country.
A 22 year old from the outers does not pay rent or need to buy food / clothers / grains for the family. That's all free for her. An inner needs to try harder, wants to dream, but can't. Wishes she could be an outer, but can't.
Society and luxury do go together to some extent, but when daily news reports talk of the burgeoning middle class or middle to upper classes and the ever blossoming luxury market, i sometime stay and wonder "How"? Or "where"?
Where are these people so talked about? And do they really make up a "market"? Considering that there aren't as many outers truthfully.
The country moves forward rapidly, but the reality and stakes puzzle me endlessly. Who guides everything? Who decides? Who draws the lines?
The deeper i travel into the subject, the deeper i go into the interiors, i find more of what i don't really see. I see things that aren't ever talked about. I see the reality of this city's fake life.
Where one can afford and will (not necessarily, but will) buy a Gucci bag to adorn an outfit, another would not know what Gucci is and wouldn't probably have ever seen the amount of money that totalled the bag in a lifetime. Or maybe, half a lifetime.
Money doesn't always make the world go round, but it can.
Development where the rich get richer, where the middle stay averagely OK and the poor get poorer doesn't count in reality. The stakes aren't balanced out.
The deeper reality of it all lies in the meaning of the real majority of the people who ideally should be the people's people.
The reality lies in what we don't know and can't see, because what we do see is what we read and what we read is what is easy to write about and what we write about is what we see, and we don't really see the reality of it all.
Because, reality is easy to mask when you get a diamond (the 3rd one in the year) as a gift from another uncle - something.

Monday, July 7, 2008

It's a sunny tuesday afternoon. Some kids run past me to go home, it's cause it's after school. The college goers. walk the talk. they think they seem so cool.
But too much of anything, is like a broken tool.

In this city, myths lie thick, people are usually left amused.
A tourist is taken for a ride, a local chews and sues.
In this city, the rich are rich, they think big, travel when they are sick, bemused.
They drive through town, Mercs and sounds. gears on the move.
In this city, we need food, basic trust and a little more fuel.
In this city where we need less feuds, we lack the basics. water, clothes, a good mood....

Overpopulated, Over rated, Overly amused. That's the city. Hardly green, hardly serene, under every new moon.
We need new cabs, we need new trains, we need new buses too.
But, the people' d rather wish for luck and avoid thinking of building a new school.
We need better you's, we need better me's.
But whose to listen to the truth.

We need sympathy. We have alot of apathy.
Please,
Where is the real stew.
There's nothing here, holes in dreams,
people living,
never loving, always lying.

The rich stay rich.
The poor, the filth.
Nothing changes under another new moon.

There's hope for better.
But there's always worse.
Yesterday a girl was shot.
She didnt know why or for what.
And the clubs stayed on till 2.

The price of grain, went up in the rains.
So, most of the others were basically screwed.

There's some hope, hope for the better.
But nothing will be, cause no one's bothered.
As long as your not stuck-in-the muck.
you'd watch while people ran out of luck.
Cause that is true.

It's better to do.
It's better i tell you.

But for the 100th time.

Friday, June 20, 2008

You can’t miss what you never had.

I wonder who said that? I’m not really sure, but I do know that it’s so not true.
One day, 2 years ago, there were 7 bomb blasts – a terrorist attack, in Mumbai.
One day, everything changed, for a few handfuls, one day – that day - I realized that life is not only unpredictable, but weirdly uncaring.


If you were to wake up one morning and know that it was your last day alive, what would you do? Sometimes being prepared for the worst helps to brace one’s self against the odd, but then, not knowing how, when, who, or why can sometimes make every bit of your existence seem like a grand waste.

When you strive, you tend to strive for the best, for what you never had, but want, for what you always yearned but never had.
And you tend to spend most of your waking hours aiming to get it, to reach it. – The Best.
No, you don’t try being the best, you try for the best.
But then, if one day, it all just suddenly ends, would you as a survivor pick up the pieces that were left and move on and strive forth or would you sink? Or, what if you were not the survivor but the victim. What would your last thoughts be?
Would you know how, when, who or why? Or would you think of how, when, who or why?

It’s oft said, every pro has a con.
I don’t think that’s true either.

What pray are the pros of being bombed apart? What pray are the pros of terrorism?

Life is suppose to be a gift, what if you enjoyed it to it’s fullest best, but one day, it were just snatched away from you, for no real valid reason. What would you think?

Life always moves on for even the lesser of us. Every day throws you into a new night, every dark night leads to new day light.
Inbuilt is the ability to just float on. Even if you’re not really there…. You can move. But how does a healing heart completely heal? Or does it?

Science won’t ever be able to make a medicine for this.
Creators of hi-technology won’t ever be able to find or programme a” software” to fix this.
The biggest business houses won’t ever be able to buy / acquire a “strategy” to solve this.

Why?
Because life doesn’t allow it.

Because, what’s suppose to be important, is, the everyday simple pleasures of life that we more oft than not tend to miss out on. The simple air we breathe, the simple heart beat of your new-born baby, the simple feeling of being appreciated no matter what and appreciating no matter what.

But, then, if you can’t miss what you never had, you can’t miss not doing the above.

Life moved on, but I didn’t. That’s what a healing heart is. And no one can really fix it.

When every thing around you reminds you of him, it’s hard to fly by the days you have left. Sure, you can relocate, start afresh and all of those… but, the thoughts / memories do remain.
Because, that’s life.

The people you care about will always leave an impression – if not long lasting, at least an impression on you.
And when they leave, the impression shall remain. Because that’s life.

There isn’t any real point in fighting that.
What can be fought though, is the real war.
------------
Dedicated to the victims of the Mumbai train blasts of July 11, 2006.
------------