A poet batting on a slippery wicket

 

The tiles are getting so oily smooth in fashionable houses that I have to walk like a heavily pregnant penguin waddling on the Antarctic ice to avoid a fall. But we are up for leaving a grand impression on the house fashion scene, or for that matter in all types of fashion in all spheres of life. That's being cultured; otherwise you are a Sentinelese prehistoric tribal in the Andaman and Nicobar chain of islands. In fact, the floor tiles have become so slippery these days that I feel like a goat being taken to a slaughter house if some fashionable person invites me to their house.

But credit goes to we humans. We are a gutsy race. We take risks. We are ready to take the risks of broken bones for being most fashionable in the neighborhood. And so many slip and break their bones in fact. What floor is any worth if it doesn't carry the slipping potential and break bones and wink with a flashy smile as you fall? And we shouldn't forget that broken bones are a boon for the medical fraternity.

What car is worth its tyres if it can't go like a rocket and carry the prospect of trampling as many as possible on its glorious journey? But the naughty trampling cars are a boon for the insurance industry. Isn’t it?

What music is worth its rhythmic hop if it can't burst a few eardrums? What dress is worth its salt if it doesn't make you look like someone from the farthest galaxy? And the dress that actually covers the body is no dress, it's an old hag. So poor clothing is up for a big challenge. It has to show all and still appear to hide everything. So we are busy fixing it. It's a very serious question. How much of cloth goes off from the bum-side to cover the soles of feet. Or how much goes from the chest to cover armpits. One half of the mind working overtime to bare all, while the other half trying to devise an airy dress to avoid a complete fall. Imagine how much creativity it requires! What an art man!

And what is this boring, old-model plain skin? It's a big canvas for art. Why waste paper for painting when we have our dear skin ready for the sadistic pleasure of the tattooing needle? So human body is the canvas now. Some tattoos go deep in the skin in proportions to the transient emotions in the heart. But we have shifty hearts. So when the clouds of emotions scatter and take a new shape, the poor tattoo taunts as a sign of infidelity. So it has to be vanquished. So tattoo removers have become as important as tattoo makers. The other day when I put out my hand to give some money to a beggar I got a shock. He had a dragon on his hand. He appeared so empowered in comparison to me. My poor non-tattooed hand won't dare to go ahead. So I just walked away. When I see people with their sophisticated tattoos coming on the way, I involuntarily find myself moving away in awe and wonder to give them space to walk. They appear a completely new race to me the old model. Maybe tattooed bums, biceps, breasts and tummies have gone berserk and are now revolting to claim new versions after getting fed up with their boring old self.

And what gun is a gun that can't pierce a hill from a distance? So the human mind is making the best of a gun. But then what bulletproof jacket is that which can't stop a cannon ball on the chest. So one half of our collective brain is making the deadliest gun, while the other half is busy in making the best of bulletproof jackets.

We are a very busy race. We can't stop. We have to scatter litter in the first place, so that we can devise the most efficient ways of waste management. We ought to rechristen ourselves as busy-sapiens now. We have to first go into war and killings and then make UN and the entire set of peace talks and diplomatic corps for peaceful negotiations.

I sometimes wonder maybe we are basically looking to create more avenues for problems, so that the genius of the human brain can be actualized in managing those problems. I think the autonomous human mind is smartly using the slavish human body for experiments, like we do with the toads on dissection tables, putting us in weirdest situations just to find whether there is a solution to this and that. What an experiment going on! It really is a big drama.

A bat and ball in place of guns and grenades

 

Congratulations Afghanistan! During the ongoing one day cricket world cup they have defeated two former champions. October 23 would stand as a millstone for the war-torn country when they defeated Pakistan. They needed this victory far more than Pakistan. A bleeding land suffering from wars, famines, killings, poverty and all that can plague a society. Just imagine the joy and happiness in bullet-scarred little mud-houses across Afghanistan! Men, women and children getting a rare opportunity to feel proud of their nation. An exceptional event when they can shout with joy. Such events can trigger a turning point in a country's history. The youth can think of bat and ball instead of guns and bombs. Sports sow the seeds of hard work and discipline among the youth. It sets up a stage for dreaming big. I’m really happy for them! But I have my sympathies for Pakistan also. They still have the option of winning all their remaining games to stay in the competition.

There is a very-very exceptional blast of happiness and public jubilation in Afghanistan. In Kabul the fans honked car horns, danced and played loud music. I think even Taliban would have felt like celebrating on the occasion. Why be so stern and serious when the entire nation feels like singing and dancing? I’m not for gunfire on any occasion. But celebratory gunfire following a victory on the sporting field surely removes a few bullets from the ammunition dump which would have tasted human blood. So it’s good riddance.

The seeds are always very small but they have the potential to sire big crops, trees, forests. Let’s hope this little seed of victory on the sporting field sires Afghan resurgence. Such sporting upsets by the cricketing underdogs are more than welcome. They don’t have the infrastructure. But it shows how resilient the Afghan people can be. All out aggression breeds fanaticism. But controlled aggression on the sporting field fetches glory and joy for the impoverished masses. As they celebrated I am sure many bleeding hearts must have forgotten the decades-long mayhem. They hunt as a spinning wolf pack headed by the wonderful Rashid Khan. Spinning a ball is far better than spinning a grenade. Hitting a six is more effective than firing a rocket launcher.

A pilgrimage

 

I had the luck to go on a pilgrimage to Gaumukh in the second half of October. I saw Maa Ganga's two temples: a glacial one at Gaumukh and a man-made shrine at Gangotri. The former for a journey within; the latter for finding your footing on the ladder of faith before you dive within. As you walk in the opposite direction to Her powerful currents, She cleanses you of darkness. She roars past you, outshouting the demons within you. It seems as if She is ferociously rushing past you to decimate the backstabbing illusions following you. She sprays Her divine waters to cleanse your little-little mistakes and stumbles that we unjustifiably term as sins. She emboldens you to stumble over stony path to finally find your footing, like a mother looking over her toddler falling while learning to walk. She wants your tired legs to know the importance of pause and rest in the art and craft of walking (life). As She powerfully cuts massive mountains, it seems as if a strong mother is assuring Her children,  'I will cut a valley for you. I will lay a path for you.  You just learn to walk!' And once you get the lesson and complete the little assignment given by Her, She is there with Her motherly smile to welcome you in Her man-made shrine.

Man Vs Woman

 

The questioner: What do you think are your favorite qualities in a woman?

Me: The same as found in a good man.

The questioner: And your favorite qualities in a man?

Me: The same as in a good woman.

The questioner: Why?

Me: Because both are equal and humans only.

A drop of love

 

The main charm of dewy autumnal mornings is the shower of little Parijat flowers that covers the ground, like offerings to mother earth. It's a little exercise in nurturing care and consideration in my farming gene pool. Walk carefully so as not to crush even a single flower. If you sensitize your conscience to at least this level so as to avoid crushing a flower, there is hardly a chance that you will crush a heart, an organic representative of thousands of beautiful, multicolored flowers.