Stuck in Traffic

Beautiful evenings these days. In a hurry to reach destinations (though I don't know why I hurry) there have been one too many opportunities lost where I could have rolled down the window, slowed down and enjoyed the ambiance.

This weekend I got a chance to do just that - am happy the choice wasn't mine to make. Was a beautiful evening with a serene sunset.. one of those sedately darkening nights. And earlier on winding country roads. Had the windows rolled down, with me in the backseat sleeping on and off for most part of the day. Was heavenly!

Slowing down and enjoying the moment -that seems to be the path to bliss..

Remember when....

The dark hours of the day. The kids all settled in & sleeping.. or so they were supposed to be. The wooden gate would open and in would walk a gaggle of friends out to collect their Aunt, on the way of their ritual walk. The two little tots couldn't contain their curiosity and followed them where they led. On the road they romped along on all day but looked not the least bit familiar at this mysterious hour. Careful to keep their distance lest they be discovered.

The words among the friends were flowing - whispered, sounding like a wash of sound rather than anything meaningful. They reached the open fields. And the last remnants of light the lonely streetlamp was shedding vanished. The kids could see nothing beyond. And their Aunt had disappeared into the darkness, engulfed by the unknown. Their tiny hearts beat hard pondering the dark void in front of them. They wanted to be brave, but the sound of the night creatures drove their thoughts and steps around. Running for their lives back to the known comfort of the cool white sheets under the starlit skies. The sheets that would protect them against the spirits of the night until their eyes shuttered and they slipped into blissful sleep.

The unsolved mysteries.

The Best Wheels

Changing seasons. The wait for sunny weather. The cursing of cold days and nights; especially when you happen to leave that jacket behind at home. The joy in gliding down bare white slopes. The Earth pining for those long awaited showers; the heart for the splendor of the skies - lightning and thunder. The anticipation of new blooms. Love everything about changing seasons that finally lead to a Summer!

A bright afternoon. Shiny new wheels. The rush of leaves as the wind blows though your hair and into the trees. The crunch of gravel under the slender tires. California summers! Especially while on a bicycle in the woods, with a blanket in tow for that nap under a tree.

Used to take sunny weather for granted. But now that I've been away from India, I yearn for and am grateful when sunny days happen and I have the chance to be out on such days. And only a fellow Indian would probably understand why a "changing" goes in front of seasons when it is so obvious. Nice to have a bike again!!

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PS: Thanks Madhav, Anshu for making it happen :)

Words

Love how words work together. Love how writers get creative with their choice of words - a string of random words does not a book make, but the right combination makes a story worth reading. How they can riddle you up with laughter making people around you wonder whats wrong with you or how they make you clear off that tear trickling down your cheek before anyone notices. How one word makes up for all the hurt. And another fills you up with joy. How put to music you can hear them over and over again. They have the capacity to mean everything and sometimes nothing. And how you feel miffed and confused when you don't find the right word. Phrases you remember forever and end up making yours. How what you read and write and say eventually speak for what you are.

Was a time when I couldn't turn a book down before I was done reading it. Now the book from the library languishes on the bed till I'm beyond the allowed renewals and at a stage of trying to avoid fines. I hate that I'm addicted to the online games and plead sore eyes when friends suggest online books. I hate how I rant but don't do anything about it! But I have hope. And that is my favorite word these days.

Words are powerful.

Girl Time

A very good weekend. With just the girl friends and fun. And realized how much I enjoy "girl time". I've been into girlish stuff recently - pruning the hair fashionably; experimenting with clothes; painting nails; pumping up the heels.. you get the picture. And loving it. This just might be one of those phases.. till I start believing again that its all superficial and over-rated. But I intend to enjoy the time till it lasts. Oh and scarves! love them.

When your Mind Breaks the Spirit of Your Soul

My resolution for this year: Try avoiding that from happening.

Was listening to 21 guns and these words just struck a chord...

A Dose of Reality and Hope

Saw this movie 500 Days of Summer. First time a movie has inspired me to write about it (since I've started blogging). Very well made, with a good story (lots of humor mixed in too), good acting from the protagonists, and a nice music score to tie it all together.

Would love to see it again.

Summer Bug

Marathons. Since I've come to the US I have know many who have run marathons. The crazy kind - barely any training; with determination seeing them through. The die hards - somehow manage the whole 26mi in spite of an injury. The level heads with an aim - go regularly for training and wind their way to the finish line in glory.

Somehow its an occupation which seems to have missed India. Never heard of anybody there doing a marathon. Except for the Naval run which occurs Dec 4th every year. All the dashing young officers and cadets would run by our house (which was en route back then) and people would hang out at the gates passing them water and such.

I have long since lost touch with the die hards; and the crazies seem to have retired to married bliss. But a bunch of friends and colleagues are once again training. Recently I've come to appreciate jogging, though a marathon is something I would never contemplate; you see I'm immune to this particular bug. That's how I initially started jogging - running along with a colleague when he was training; and then he got to distances beyond a couple of miles and I decided biking is much better. Things seem to lose their attraction once they step beyond the line of fun into the zone of exercise.

In all of this my involvement has been in cheering when friends were running. Or donating to whichever cause they choose to run for. Thats the fringe benefit of the summer bug - some causes get recognition; get championed. But recently lethargy seems to have creeped in some more and all I do is give a nod when I see an email from a friend who is running. And wonder what kind of a runner he is.

Sleepless in Santa Clara

On a whim went for a walk late today, has to be yesterday now I guess. It had been a sunny and hot day; but a pleasant evening. The best night to be out for a walk. I enjoyed it very much. Its been that stage recently where I'm trying out things by myself, and surprisingly liking it. Am I turning into a loner? Hmmm..... don't think so... still enjoy friends company too much :D

A run would have knocked me out towards a good nights sleep. But the walk just woke me up looks like! I hate online movies & games *#&)($^*)#@! They are eating away all my free time!!! I could have been reading that book I've been loaning from the library since.. far too long. The good part of the internet that gets me these games and movies is that it gets me songs too. Been listening to U2 non stop for a while now. Love some of their songs. And Green Day.

A packed day ahead. I should get some sleep. And stop rambling so randomly. Maybe I am sleepy.. considering the scattered thoughts. Happy Friday!!

Is Four Years Enough?

I have been doing this thing I do for more than four years.. And still don't seem to be close to liking it.. Is it time to call it quits and move on, or should I persist some more to find out if perchance things might change? Four years seems like a long time; long enough to know if one will/wont like something..

Time for change?

Ponder This

She was busy. Evaluating things. Thinking them over. Thoughts flying all around the place. Stopping her from acting on her instincts. Thinking what if.. what next.. where next.. Thinking. Asking. Her mind was busy, busy as a thousand ants crawling around.

He was watching her all the time. Smiling to himself. Knowing. Knowing all the time how futile it was.

She couldn't rest without her answers. Couldn't move ahead. Wondering all the time.. And then one day her mind stood still. And he laughed out loud. He knew he would win every time; and steal them of their thoughts one day. It was fun watching the mortals fry their brains. Always.

Squeaky Fan

The steady sound of keyboards clicking away. The conference room abuzz with people discussing. The swish of clothes as colleagues pass by in the aisle. The far off ringing of the phone in someone's cube. Ruffling sound of paper being waived about as some tries to explain something. The satisfied rumbling of gastric juices in the stomach.

These are the sounds that have replaced the squeaky fan in a class room these days. Only wish it were the sound of a fly buzzing around looking for the remnants of that mango it can smell (but has long since been devoured) on the lazy breeze of an Indian summer afternoon.

Just another afternoon with me trying desperately to stay awake.

My First Swimming Lesson

A marginally cold night it was and the warm pool water seemed to be the best place to be in. And so it was that the bunch of us jumped in with some pizza and drinks on the pool side.. a pool party.. my very first. It was less than 4 feet of water on this end and there was no threat of drowning.. I was still sticking to the edges..

She didn't know how to swim either. Watching the others push off the wall of the pool and streamline, she tried to imitate the motions. Pretty soon she was spanning the breadth of the pool this way.. Got me wondering why I was being so timid; why I wasn't being more adventurous.. So it happened that I took that first deep breath and pushed off the wall and let myself float.. and gradually to flap my legs and get that first halfway across the pool. Eventually I made it the whole way across and later on parred the same backwards - facing the starry sky.

My first swimming lesson - try, don't be afraid to move beyond your comfort zone. This wasn't the first time she showed me that. I'm sure it wont be the last. I'm just glad she was around.

Hope everyone had a good 4th of July.

Bridges and Stone Paved Roads and Turtles on Cars

Some Happenings

Was listening to the radio on the way to work and they had this discussion going - "what would you do if your spouse called his/her parents over to live with you?". The hosts comment - "the only thing I can think of is to move out"!?! That's when I realized how lucky I am in my origins. I wouldn't change a thing even if I could.

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Was at this restaurant for brunch today; with very little appetite and feeling under the weather. Asked for coffee and it was served in the old style - a small steel cup in a wider steel saucer. Brought back memories of watching my Granddad and his ritual with coffee drinking - he would pour a small amount of sizzling hot coffee into the saucer, swirl it around till it cooled a bit before drinking it up from the saucer :). I did the same with my coffee today and somehow felt much better for the experience.

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Has it ever happened with you that you turn on the radio and this song you like just starts playing? It has with me. A number of times. And everytime I always end up thinking it was played just for me and I end up enjoying it all the more for it! I know its juvenile but just makes me happy when that happens :) :) :)

Social Consciousness or... OCD??

I was making my usual morning drink in the break room today and suddenly I realized - I am obsessive compulsive when I clean the espresso machine as instructed. I'm most particular about it. And then there is my colleague who cares enough for the environment to turn off all the superfluous lights around; he even bikes to work every day! He saw me cleaning the espresso machine one day and commended my "conscientious" act.

I care enough for my community to do the token "spare the air" acts once in a while; plant a tree; manage without a plastic bag; etc.. But then eventually I forget to keep up the good work. Most people I know are the same. Every person probably tries, in the times his consciousness is awake to help with causes he believes in. At some point though his vigilance would drop and he reverts to his old ways.

So what goes into the making of a true activist? To be conscious at every moment to follow in a chosen path, does one need to be obsessive compulsive? Are all super fighters for causes obsessive compulsive to some extent?

Crystal Ball

Turmoil. That's what best described her current state of affairs. It was a long time since she last had a restful night, undisturbed by her thoughts in those long wakeful moments before the secrets of the night took over and threw her out into a new day. She was at her wits end and today had been the breaking point. She was on her knees now, with her eyes shut tight, praying with all her might. Hoping for a ray of insight. A glimpse of the future.

She slept for a long time that night. A kaleidoscope of events running through her dreams. Dreams she surprisingly remembered the next day. She felt more relaxed now. More in control of her fortunes. She had made up her mind somewhere in the night about what she wanted to do next. She finally found peace. She changed jobs and felt better at the new place. It was the same work; only better hours. Left her with more time for herself. Time even to hang out with friends in the evenings. She found she was much better at making decisions these days. More relaxed about it. Like the time when she knew exactly which restaurant she wanted them to go to that night. Where she met her long lost friend. It was almost like she knew she would.

Her days were more mellow now. No more uncertainty; which was surprising. Before she never knew what she wanted to do next; nor could she make decisions as easily as she did now. It felt good. This lack of agonizing over details and what ifs. Her days were more constructed; more ordered. Life was sailing smooth. A little too smooth.

She soon realized she missed the anticipation which went hand in hand with the guessing. The dreams of possibilities. She wanted the charm of the unknown and the novelty of chance. She soon got to thinking how much fun she used to have mulling over the future and building castles even if they were sometimes on thin air. She started fretting over the dull monotony of life, the lack of ripples. Fretting against the calm with the dearth of winds. That night found her back on her knees. Her eyes shut tight and praying...

Contemplation

How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.
- Henry David Thoreau

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How my actions mock me.

My Treasure

Its been a while since I last wrote and have been wondering what to write about next... Wanted to try out writing a story. A short one but none the less longer than anything I've penned, no typed, lately. I started on something. But then am not comfortable publishing it.. So have kept it archived till the moment I feel I can show it to the world or finally send it to its resting place in the trash.

And so I have been looking for something to write about. And at some point side-tracked and started wondering what material possession has been with me the longest. And got a surprising answer - a small stick of sandalwood. It has had a very interesting and long journey.

My uncle used to work in the construction business. At one time they were building somewhere close to sandalwood forests in Karnataka. There was something about smugglers trying to get away with a truck load of sandalwood and getting caught and my uncle somehow landing up with a few chunks of the sandalwood. My mother being my uncle's sister obviously ended up getting some of it. And me being my Mom's precious younger one got the benefit of it.

I have always loved the smell of sandalwood -- not the overpowering perfumes or soaps; but the real deal - ground out fresh sandalwood paste. It smells divine. Its probably the only thing that I ever had the patience to sit and grind. And so every once in a long while I end up pulling out this small marble slab I have and the sandalwood stick and grind out some paste and apply it to my face. And sometimes I end up sleeping with it still on my face. The smell sticks on the pillow and I keep getting whiffs of it for long after.

It happens that I have had these two pieces, the sandalwood stick and the little slab of marble with me from when I first left home for my undergrad studies. They have traveled with me since, crossing seas and ended up on the continent of N America. From the grungy apartment in New Brunswick, NJ to the fancy locations in Bay Area, CA. In all that time almost forgotten but packed away safely while moving. I rarely use them; but for the few times I do remember and pull it out, its worth all the extra care I assign for it.

Lost in the cares of the present, it has been more than a year since I last pulled out the piece of sandalwood and smelled it. My sandalwood has a long long journey left to travel before it finally gets ground down to nothing and rests in peace.

Way Back Home

A decade. That was how long it was since she had been back. But now she was there to stay. The one place she always considered her haven, her safe place. Everywhere she turned to looked the same. Yet different. The familiarity was there, yet everything was new.

The kids she had roamed the streets with were away. Far far away. Living the life she had left behind. On a whim. A longing. She had no idea how she intended to fill her days. But she knew she had to find work again. Hopefully make new friends. Would she be able to settle in and adjust to the new settings, the old life? She had loved it at one time, thrived in it. The place she had known as a kid, but was unknown territory to her now as a grown up. The changes were daunting. She had heard stories about how things worked here. Stories which were far from encouraging.

The unknowns. They had held her back. Her adventurous streak that took her away originally had gone missing. Buried in the life she had gotten used to, in uncertainties, in cares and domesticity, in the foreign she had made familiar grounds. It had taken forces outside her control to uproot her once again. To take up that which she once sought. Change. Challenge.