Nonsense : postscript

It gives me joy when I read my old postings, over and over. And sometimes the comments trigger a thought or two, and I find myself starting up yet another post. So far so good. No nonsense till this point.

When I read the "nonsense" post again, I realised I had made some subtle mistakes. Mistakes that even some of the critiques of this blog were unable to detect. Or even if they detected, they did not report them to me. So far so good. Not much nonsense till this point.

Now the [keen] reader may be wondering what this post is finally getting at, perhaps she has scrolled down for a quick look at the end and finally given up. Maybe I am bang on target in guessing the state of mind of the reader, but there is no way I'll ever know. I understand that the readers will not accept my success so easily. This post has reached a point where the reader is tired of this meta-post stuff and irritated that I am not getting to the point. But I can prove that this feeling of the reader is not justified. The reader has taken trouble to open up this site (unless he accidentally arrived on this page - my apologies!), and even after reading the title of the post, has decided to give me a break and read on. I know the reader is with me. So far so good. I have started with the topic the title describes.

The whole point of the previous "nonsense" article was to check if I could really write nonsense. And I have no regrets in accepting that I failed miserably. After that failure, I decided I needed to look closely and analyse the mistakes I made. Tell you what, it was the most difficult task. I rarely commit mistakes. I use spell-checker anyways and the possibility of a spelling mistake is close to a thousandth part of one by ten. Then it could have been grammatical mistake : which after refinement to the first rough draft, I had corrected long time back. What was it. It took me a long time to search. So far so good. I hope the reader understands my sincere urge to correct my mistakes.

Then one fine morning : that was today, I found out the mistake. It was so glaring. Yet so deeply hidden at the same time. The triumph after catching a bug or mistake is incomparable. Now I must let the reader know of it and claim my success in writing real nonsense. I declare myself a master of creative writing, in all aspects : be it imaginative, philosophical, scientific, romantic or even nonsense. So far so good. The reader is convinced I can write nonsense. So I am!

Well, now that this post is nearing its end and I have created enough background for the final punch, let me not waste any more words of wisdom. The mistake in the previous article on "nonsense" is as shown below in bold faced letters:

Fifth paragraph from the end, just above, "I wish I could speak"
wrong >> s22
correct >> s21

It really feels relieved after accepting and correcting grave mistakes. So far so good. But where is the reader? I am sure [s]he is looking at my previous article and reading it again with the corrected sentence in place!

The Sunset

I am burning. Day in and day out. There is no night. For me, it's always a hot day, whether it's autumn or spring. I have been burning for years. And for years to come I will be.

Surely, it won't be a colourful scene on the horizon when one day I set for ever.

Rona nahin, warna...

During the regular chat over lunch, someone remarked at an incident involving an American kid.

Supposedly, the kid had done mischief to bother the parents and invited anger upon him. The parents had taken their anger out and beaten this kid. The kid being (over?)smart, called up 911 and complained against his parents. 911 officials were more than happy to help this poor kid who was beaten as a punishment. If I were a born-and-brought-up-in-the-US person, I would not raise my eyebrows upon knowing that the 911 officials actually came to the kid's "rescue" and took him away. And then the poor parents would have to claim their son back after a legal battle in the courtroom. Now, they say legal process is fast in the US : what a good news!

How different are the ways of life here in India. I remember my parents asking me to stop howling and crying by threatening, "Stop it now, or police will come and take you away". Well, that's precisely what happened in case of this kid in US. The police came and took him away. Only in his case, the kid himself would have said, "WHAT?? Stop crying?? You don't threaten me like that, I myself will call the police!" And wonder what! That worked.

अलसस्य कुतो विद्या । अविद्यस्य कुतो धनम...

Typically, the weekend mornings are slow to start, especially for my room-mate. By the time he gets up and tries to lose the startup troubles, I am done with my morning walk for The Hindu, have taken bath, and reading some book, when this fellow enters my room. We go for a coffee, return and settle down for a conversation.

As it so happens next (and so many times), we are having a long discussion about virtually anything : right from Bangalore's traffic problems, to solutions thereof, to Shivaji Maharaj's wisdom and adventures; from icecream at Corner house to PG Wodehouse; when suddenly we realise, we have spent a huge amount of time in chatting (without much outcome). Suddenly, my room-mate realises it is quite late in the morning, he has not done anything worth mentioning since the morning : "अलसस्य कुतो विद्या..." he says, and concludes the conversation.

I remember a story of a shepherd boy who has let the cattle stray on unlimited land to graze on, and with his hands on eyes, trying to get some sleep.

Enter a "learned" fellow from a big city. He is worried at general lack of awareness about the development of the urban world among the rural people, lack of education, lack of job opportunities and what not. Upon seeing this boy full lying so idle and visibly "wasting" time like this, he can't help but start a preaching session.

"Hey there, what's your name??", The Sahib asks.

"GaNapat", the boy answers without bothering to open his eyes to see who he is talking to.

"Hi GaNapat, how do you do?"

"Fine. Thank you. I am enjoying myself"

"Don't you think you are wasting time? Going by your age, you should be studying hard and exploring things..."

"Why? I am very happy like this. Why study? And why study hard?" - GaNapat.

"C'mon. Everybody knows why one should study. To gain knowledge, to know more things."

By this time, GaNapat is keen to see who is asking so many questions, and why.

"Why? Why should I gain more knowledge you tell me!"

"Simple : If you'll study, go to a reputed college, graduate, then you'll get a good job in the big city!"

"What of it? Let's say I study, etc. etc. and get a good job then what?"

"Then you can make some serious money. And gain still more knowledge too!"

"OK. What of it? What next?" - GaNapat doesn't see any point in doing all this hard work.

"Hey, come on. You know so many things you can buy if you are rich. Look at me!"

"Hmm.", GaNapat returns Sahib's gaze with a cold stare.

"Look at me. I used to get up early in the mornings, when I was your age, then go to school. I Used to study harder than any of my friends. I topped so many exams, now I am settled in my life. I have all the joys of life."

"OK. So what?"

"Don't you see? If you have a great deal of money, a good position at job, you can enjoy more. See, I have come to this lovely village of yours to relax, to bask in the beauty of nature. To sing!"

"Sir, I still see no point in your advice. I respect you, and your efforts, but don't you see, without taking so many troubles, am I not doing what you have come here to do? Boy, I am enjoying myself for sure!!"
---

:)

On the movies I watched over last three-four months---

- Paheli : An Amol Palekar flick. The cellulose takes a dip in innumerable colours, but in the end fails to involve the audience in the festival. Rani Mukherjee seemed to be a confused woman throughout (or perhaps that was what Amol Palekar intended her to be). The end was too abrupt, with Amitabh Bacchan's "wasted" appearance. I will always remember this movie for some other reasons, however. This movie solved The Puzzle, should I say!

- The Interpreter : Director Sydney Pollack's name did ring a bell, but didn't quite open the door before I looked up IMDB and checked his other films. The film is an interesting thriller, without much blood shedding (except for a bomb blast in a bus). Nicole Kidman proves her character yet again with a solid performance.

- My Fair Lady : George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion comes live on the silver screen, all enlightened by cheerful Audrey Hepburn. There were times when I could see our own Bhakti Barve in the role of ManjuLa, in Pu La's "tii phularaaNi". My Fair Lady did not quite touch my heart as PhularaaNi did, perhaps if I had seen My Fair Lady before phularaaNI, it would have. I found accented "raayen in spaayen staayes mayenly in playen" dialogue sounded far better than a plain "rain in spain stays mainly in plain"! A wonderful musical anyways.

- Seven Samurai : I finally got my hands on Akira Kurosawa's classic. I had heard so many good things about this movie. They were playing on my mind when I was watching the movie. The meta-thought about the movie was all in my head initially. But soon I got too much involved in this movie, and in the end more than agreed to the reviews I had read earlier. Indeed, this black and white movie, succeeds in bringing all the colours of life alive.

- The Hidden Fortress : Another one by Akira Kurosawa. A hilarious tale of a courageous princess and the kingdom's chief-of-army, and two peasants in search of hidden, royal gold. Kurosawa's movies never disappoint.

- Pretty Woman : I accidently found it running on one of the movie channels. Julia Roberts is at her second best (first one, without doubt is "Notting Hill"). Richard Gere tried hard to be at par, but I guess failed short!

- Dr Strangelove : I wish the DVD had been more audible. It is supposed to be a classic by Kubrick, but to be frank, I failed to appreciate even five minutes of its reel. Blame it on the poor audio quality or perhaps the acoustics of the Physics Dept's lecture hall.

- Some Like it Hot : My first Merilyn Monroe movie. Hugely entertaining, from the start to the end. Subtle, loud, hidden, ..., whatever styles of humour one can list, all were there. I guess the elders would hail it as "movie of our time"!

Bright, yellow, golden flicker.
Blazing flame - Can you see shadow of the flame?
Poor burning wick, and its lonely shadow.
---

Relativity, curved space, curved time,
Beyond understanding of mine.
Me, inside a bus : a mere traveler.
---

Typing this one, may not be me, here,
but my other self, from a distinct world,
asking me to speculate a possible connection.
---

A rainy day, an incessant drizzle,
"drenched" - is the word,
Pearls from your hair, all over...

Fifty Five

When I was asked to write a story such that the total number of words in it had to be equal to fifty-five and no more or no less, I gave it a thought, took out my favourite pen and wrote this : "I Hope nobody bothers to count the number of words in this story".

---
For better 55-stories, visit Gaurav's blog.

Catch-22

Consider this situation :

You are in a fix. You are facing a problem: there could be two solutions to it, either ignore it, i.e. do not let it bother you, or take it on left and right.

The problem is difficult if taken head on. There is every chance that when attacked from front, it will worsen. The problem is cryptic, in the sense, if it worsens, you can't really figure it out easily.

In any case, the problem remains a problem unsolved. This is how---

If you go by the first method, where you think ignoring the problem could be one of the solutions, you'll never know if that worked.

If you go by the second method, you know it's going to worsen no matter what you do.

Is there a solution to this meta-problem?

Haiku

My (poor?) attempts at Haiku :

Lines three beautiful
Mostly meaningful.
Puzzling, yet.

(a)
Objects in the mirror
are closer than they appear.
so are you, with me on my bike.

(b)
Asleep flowers,
drops of sun, dew and sprinkler
now awake.

(c)
High tide, low tide.
Wet thoughts.
Water returns.

(d)
Me and you,
Infinite sky, endless.
Two small birds.

(e)
Quake, Half Life.
Tsunami, Hiroshima.
not only games.

इंद्रधनुष्य

आकाशात कायमच ढगांची गर्दी असते. त्यातल्या त्यात संध्याकाळी जरा मोकळीक मिळते आणि लहानश्या पोकळीतून निळ्या आकाशाचं दर्शन घडतं. वाऱ्याची मर्जी असेल तर ही पोकळी आणखी मोठी होते. पुर्वेकडे मात्र राखाडी ढग कायमच रेंगाळत बसलेले दिसतात.

अशाच एका संध्याकाळी पश्चिमेकडे जरा उघडीप मिळाल्यावर छान उन पडलं होतं. कललेले सोनेरी किरण प्रसन्न वाटत होते. पूर्वेकडच्या ढगांकडे लक्ष जाताच अप्रतिम इंद्रधनुष्य दिसलं. अर्धं! त्या द्रुष्यातल्या नजाकतीत काहितरी कमी होतं. बराच वेळ विचार करूनही त्याचं कारण मला सापडेना. इतकी छान संध्याकाळ, आल्हाददायक वारा आणि एकंदरीतच हवामानातला उत्साह, त्यात हे अपूर्ण इंद्रधनुष्य खटकत होतं.

तुला याची हकिकत सांगितल्यावर तूही असाच अनुभव आल्याचं म्हणालीस.

चित्र आता पुरं झालेलं होतं...

Nonsense

I wish I could read all those white letters on light grey background. I wish I could see that blood red bird flying higher and higher up in the yellow sky. I long for a day when I can look at my face in the pitch black mirror and sigh, how badly I want it to be darker blue. The yellow waters of the sea, and the purple coconut trees on its shore : I don't remember when I visited the black sea last time.

I wish I could see.
---

The bitter taste of sugar lingers. It is kind of addictive. Then a lemon adds certain spice to the recipe. As a starter, sweet raw onions would do during an unimaginative supper, but not for a seven course meal such as this : it needs to be started with sour milk.
{.....}
The guest of honour would not mind more chilly in his ice cream, he once mentioned, he rather liked it.

I wish I could taste.
---

The huge wheels of my tiny bicycle finally started rolling. With herculean efforts, I started riding it down the steep downhill. The beautiful crickets in the night were howling like a silent nightingale. Over the east horizon I could see the sun rising, challenging the darkness of the receding night.

I wish I could imagine.
---

hkhn. 0-99- 9hsj hjju aohi 90(884jb gy 73jyhbjj @Q$ jlllllajj umma??
jgf883 asjf3882 kasjkl'j kahs hop00 maska 9 3kan 9 n!!
swh164s23. 0-aas223a32 9hsj hjju aohi 90(884jb gy 73jyhbjj @Q$ jlllllajj umma?? KIo_392$ 883 ewew42DDscsg asjf3882 kasjkl'j kahs hoSSw saawka 9a. -8*n9 n!!

I wish I could speak.
---

{

}

I wish I could think.
---

And there you fail! Even after continued efforts at writing nonsense, you fail. Just when I was wondering this post had achieved the objectives, I start thinking these sentences I am now writing. And when I am done with this particular sentence, I have assured myself that this post is after all not about nonsense. Exactly at what stage I realised this? When I decided to name it, "nonsense".

I wish I could write nonsense.
---

Acrophobia

The reason why I don't want to work too hard is, acrophobia.


acrophobia,
Pronunciation: "a-kr&-'fO-bE-&"
Function: noun
Etymology: New Latin
Meaning: "abnormal dread of being at a great height"

Collage

Meaningless images clutter my thoughts,
Some cheerful, some of sorrow full, and of anger
Few colourful and many, white and black.

I fail to see the connection, and the threads.
Meaningful soon they may become, yet unclear
now, unimaginable emotions of this sick colour.

In my wrath I tear them apart, ruthlessly,
destroying any beauty or trace, now, a mere disgrace,
a heap of images grows so tall, where is the canvass?

The drops of tears, alone may gel them together,
no wonder they follow, after a deafening thunder,
when I gather my thoughts ever so closer.

Askew, asunder, hither and thither, yet I do sense,
a thread so silken, and broken images falling in place,
The canvass of my mind, now cleaned of any grimace.

It completes my painting, sings a song of harmony,
my thoughts do reassemble after days so rainy,
Then I sing of my collage, bright beautiful and shiny!

This thing is home

And is rocking. Absolutely!

Yen rain appa! yen rain

That means what rain in kannaDa. The meaning of the title will become clear as you read on.

It was an ordinary Sunday yesterday. Typically I would wash around 4 clothes on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Yesterday I had washed five. Perhaps that was the only seemingly obvious difference. I was through with the afternoon nap (~20-30 minutes, again typical for a Sunday). The cricket match was getting interesting with India four wickets down (again, typical) against Zimbabwian kids. I was expecting a typical result, when it all started. The typical Sunday drizzle, soon converted into a pour, and into cats-and-dogs-type downpour. I was leisurely passing time in the TV room. I was aware that it was raining outside, and had shrugged it off a couple of times that I wouldn't be able to go out in the evening.

All in all I was neither expecting nor ready for what happened in the next three-four hours.
Juan Pablo Montoya cruised to his Monza victory and suddenly the doorbell rang.

"Keep the door shut and stay inside", our landlady was telling me. I was still engrossed in the calculations of Renault's championship points and Mahawire's brilliant diving catch that showed Saurav the directions of the pavilion, when I saw water everywhere.

Dirty water. Muddy water. Brown-green water everywhere. It had managed its way up the porch (that's an overstatement for my bike's parking lot) and was already wetting the bike's wheels. I was stunned. I never expected two hours of light drizzle-turned downpour would gather so much of water. And it was rising at an alarming rate.

I quickly closed the door, ran inside, packed my bedding and kept it up on my roomie's cot. Switched off the TV (before the electricity board could claim the achievement), pulled out the plug and started emptying my wardrobe's ground floor. No sooner had I removed the things lying on the ground, than the water was already inside. In a straight line first, then not following any direction, it just started pouring inside.

In half an hour, the house condition was something like this :

* I was purely opportunistic in taking this picture. Who knows when will be the next time when such quantities of water will come inside ;) What is missing in this is of course myself!












And it remained so for the next two hours, after which it started receding. To add to the effect, theft alarm on one of the very old Marutis in the neighbourhood went off. It started giving out troublesome frequencies. I was locked inside. I did not want to open the door : it was holding off some water level outside. I couldn't see what was going on outside.

Soon it was mud all over inside and the air was on the verge of stinking. My feet were already cold, to worsen the things, there was no place to sit! It was still raining outside. The water had crept inside the silencer of my bike. An Indica which I guess broke down, was parked right in front of the gate : I couldn't see its wheels. People were trying to find their way through more than knee-deep waters. And I was alone!

As most of the things, this one also came to an end at around 9:30. The water started receding and then I opened the door finally. The water inside rushed outside. The force and aggression was as if it was I who had detained it inside for so long, and finally had let go.

There was no point in starting the cleaning work : I just packed a few things and started for Vishal's home. Once outside, it was relief. I could see the entire road fully covered in brown water, finally I found the damn car that was making so horrible a sound. I walked off as fast I could. On the airport road, things were again normal, typical of a late Sunday evening. The traffic jams were in place as if nothing had happened. The sky was clear now, and I could count a few stars.

So typical of a Sunday.

Today morning when I returned home, I found the tiles had gathered the mud : tiles would not let go of that. My bike had quenched it thirst with all the water it could drink through its silencer trunk. Outside, the road looked normal. The shops had opened up : people were busy cleaning all the mud from yesterday. The xyz-sagar was back in business of idlies and dosas, the cutting salon was awaiting first customers of the morning. And I was busy taking stock of the situation.

Our maid servant is a fantastic woman. She doesn't understand a word of Hindi (except for "paisa" for the monthly wages I guess), and I and my roomie have trouble understanding her classical kannaDa. But she is good and efficient. Without much oral communication, she does what we expect her to do. Today she wanted a thick-broom, and I thought she wanted a big towel for cleaning the house. Apart from this miscommunication we are OK. She even made me bend down, and clean the floor buried deep under the big cot. By the end of the day, she has done a great job. That's what matters!

Another problem was to start the bike. Its engine was trying to digest the muddy water. I had real trouble with it : I literally made it vomit out the stuff. I lifted the front wheel so high that the silencer started spitting out the water. It was some scene : the passers-by too liked it. With two or three attempts at the kick, the bike was up and roaring.

Now what remains is re-organisation of the wardrobe. That is going to take some time. Why? To empty two floors of clothes+junk in two-three minutes requires real non-organisational skills, which I have cultivated over the years. To reverse this process requires even more skill and patience which I obviously lack. That's why.

All in all it was a most typical sunday evening turned into a most atypical Sunday evening and back into a most typical Monday morning! That's what it was.

Schoolbus

"I'll come over to your place tomorrow. We'll play something"

"Have you done your homework?"

"I am scared of her. She is so strict!"

"Ye! Tomorrow's a holiday!"

"Open the window - let the droplets come inside na!"

"Did you notice Driver uncle's new shoes? It's Nike he says."

"My mom is stronger than yours. Want to bet?"

"I have brought some extra chalks today ;)"

"Shall I take out the ball? We'll play here itself"

"See my new pencil box? Better than yours!"

My day starts like this. Everybody is speaking one thing or the other to somebody.

Mom wakes me up so early you know. And before I have come to my senses, I have already taken bath, had some breakfast and have said "bye-bye" to Papa. I am already in the school bus!

I like the bright blue coloured bus. The longer it takes to reach our school better I like it. It is brand new. Our school purchased two brand new buses last year. I was lucky to get this one. It does make some frightening sounds when it starts, but our Driver Uncle takes good care of it.

Our Driver Uncle is cool. He is quite a driver. I am sure he is not getting any opportunities to drive real fast around the streets here. But in my dreams I always see him driving FAST. I am so thrilled you know. And then he is always so kind. he gives me tips : what a brake means, and what a power steering could do and so on. He is a genius. He wears a ferrari cap :) He makes us laugh. He is my hero! Real Hero.

My buddies in the bus are always chattering. Shouting, muttering, chatting (my English teacher could tell you all the right verbs), and is a cheerful crowd. You would not believe when I'll tell you that we play football in the bus! And sometimes golf also. We have our own rival teams (the players keep switching sides however). The girls also take part in a game someday and sometimes win also. But mostly they try to complete the homework or try to teach a chapter or two to a dumbo like me. I never do my homework in the bus. I either do it at home or don't do at all. They can catch my bad handwriting if I do it in the bus. Bus is not for doing homework. It's for fun. And what fun we have always had! I wish there was a bus ride even on holiday. This would make it even more enjoyable - we would just return from the school : no classes that day.

Some days I don't want to be a part of the bus. I just want to keep quiet and watch the crowd on the street or the endless chaos inside the bus. Sometimes I just observe Driver Uncle in his seat, trying to find a way out of this crazy traffic. Papa says it is even worse in some other parts of the city. He is a man of patience. He would never show aggression nor frustration. You won't believe he has just driven for half an hour on a road : if you'll subtract the traffic, you will find that it will take five minutes for that drive.

Simple maths. Our maths teacher is very nice. I want to do some real maths like she does in her mind when she solves the problems on the board. I want to build a castle in our small garden. Oh and those small beetles : they need some attention once I go back home. Mom is going to teach me how to arrange flowers in a great fashion. Today I'll get her do that. Or shall I just sleep for the entire afternoon?

I think about so many things such as these.

I observe the traffic on the road, which is not at all moving. Not that I mind the delay to school, I feel bad for the people traveling like this. I see the corporate buses. Brilliant people : my mom says I must study hard to become a big person. Not that I want to become a real big person, but that would sound simply good. One day I'll be traveling in such buses!

I pity them. They just seem to be so serious and boring. No fun. I think school bus is the best ride I'll ever get : it's so energetic and cheerful. We are kings of the seats around here. And look at them : all brilliant and what, they don't even seem to be speaking with one another, let alone have fun. Can they beat us in a school-bus football match? No way. I sometimes think I am more brilliant than them. Can they tell all the spellings of the words teacher taught us yesterday? Or can they make a paperboat? I don't think so. I know how to make a paperboat. I know more than one ways to be more precise. I can climb on a tree. I can throw a stone farther than anyone else in our class, I'll show when you'll come with me to the lake. If growing up means turning into people like this I don't want to grow up. No I don't want to go through all this. Surely, this is not my cup of tea. (I don't drink tea anyway, my mom won't let me till I grow up!)

" :):):) see what I pasted on back of his shirt :):) hahahaha"

" Uncle Uncle, faster faster!"

"Oh no. MOMMY! by tiffin box got opened up in my bag"

"How do you dare take my pencil"

"This diwali vacation we are going to sea, you know"

"How much you got in the maths test?"

"GOAL! GOAL!! 2-1 now"

I return to the collective chaos and feel better.