Wednesday, June 14, 2006

LoveActually Part-2

My first poem. Sheetal Mallar in the D'damas ad. The 2003 season BMW-Williams F1 engine singing around turn 14 in the United States grand prix at 18,000 rpm. David Blaine. Diana Krall's voice floating over my dining table. The Ferrari GTO parked silently on a cliffside in Posetano. Kedilaya Classes. Failing the JEE. Konkani dal. Passing the JEE. Beer and dirty jokes with dad. The last page of The Preacher. My first look at a Dali. Saarang 2004. Sachin Tendulkar in Desert Storm. Tumhara naam kya hai Basanti? The intro to Baba O' Riley. Venkatesh Prasad in the 1996 world-cup quarter finals. The last time I cried. Mood Indigo 2005. My first day at college. The first time I was kissed. My first play. Sulaj Kini dancing. Mahesh Shenoy's electric lap in the KMC swimming pool. Vasudev Bhat taking my pulse for the first time. Sneha Nagesh's songs. Sunil Pai's "Che faro Senza te?" and "This and that". P. Rathna Kumar after Schroeter Gold. Hattiwale Vipul Prakash staring at the halo around a full moon from Jamuna's roof. Harish S bursting into my room. Anushya Chandran 12 hours before Physics II. Washing powder Nirma. The Ericsson ad. Dexter's Lab. Atlas Shrugged. Pilot Paints.

Magic.

Friday, June 02, 2006

A Dream Within A Dream

This post is dedicated to "The Alan Parsons Project", a bloody good project if I ever came across one!

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For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words with even more distinctness than that which I conceived it.

Tiny specs of silver flit about the air like little pixies. I felt alive. The gentle music floated over the air as if divine. This was the stuff that dreams were made of. I felt, perfect. In mind, in body and in soul. There was an ease to the flow of my limbs that had been unmatched for sometime now. I was old now and yet felt younger. I shivered and smiled.

There is however a class of fancies of exquisite delicacies which are not thoughts and to which as yet I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language.

Tranquility felt as if it was embedded in the sandy soft grains under my feet. It was a dark but glowing world. Shimmering stars hung around me suspended in thought and watching the world go by. This was a world as old as time itself. The gentle beating of my heart was the only thing that reminded me of my mortality. I felt buoyed and joyful. My mortality was irrelevant, my toes curled as I smiled and leapt into space.

These fancies arise in the soul, alas how rarely, only at epochs of most intense tranquility, when the bodily and mental health, are in perfection.

There was hardly any physical sensation present in this world. It felt like my body was suspended from its soul. And my soul was all that was alive here. A sea of nothing which welcomed solitude and transformed it into a dreamlike euphoric suspension. But the music, the music rung over and over in my mind. It fit so perfectly that it made me want to cry. And so I did, gently letting a teardrop glide in perfect silence on my cheek.

And at those mere points of time where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of dreams.

As I floated further and further away from the grainy surface under my feet, I turned to my left to see home, it was beautiful. Blue and radiant, it was the sort of place that would make the thought of a homecoming almost poetic. As my feet touched the ground after what felt like hours, I suddenly became aware of how lucky I was. A resident of a gem, who had had the chance to see it as an observer from another world, it felt like a dream, like something that I couldn’t possibly describe.

I walked over to the silver craft as it glimmered in the sun, and told the others I’d be coming home. I missed Earth. Who wouldn’t?

As the blast from the engines threw silver sparks of dust into the void. I took a picture on a camera that my son had given me.

And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see or is seen is but a dream within a dream.

 

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