25th Apr

An unwanted uneasiness for the unseen, unless unwarranted, trying un.

('I' Chronicles)

I am at times tempted, upon watching future fantasies, to fantasise of a planet without structures. And a channel later I see Oppenheimer’s bomb obliterate Nagasaki. If I fantasise, I only have the past to peep into to see the consequences.

But alternatives can only be imagined, not repeated, right? Maybe not? Maybe we are born with them and have a memory of them within us, a memory that fades as we grow.

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When I wake up I seldom think of things other than whether or not the bath water is hot and I guess that waking up with a different thought isn’t really less selfish if it has to do with a man next to me. Anyway once I’m in an auto, I feel a little more guilty about a circumstantial privilege (the facts of getting an auto, paying for an auto ride, the auto ride). The commute is seldom pressured with thoughts of work, only a sensation of being part of the city’s large network of powered synapses. That actually makes me feel at ease. But if I’m more attuned to the unusual, a ripple made by a cigarette butt falling in a puddle, a million-watt grin on a weather-beaten face, I realise that the smugly unreflective moments won’t be the ones that flash in my mind’s eye in crucial moments of recollection.

What then would I want to recollect? The answers seem to work by elimination: not jibes, not at others too, friends that were fly-by-night or chancing upon a good Pimple cream. But the moments I want to remember tease me to the point that it seems that they cant be my prerogative. Only the ones in my dreams. That’s not the only reason I sleep, but I feel it’s a good reason.

So if I manage to recollect a dream without drowning it in the tepid waters that de rigeur test my morning, I find myself buoyed by a strange calm. That’s what ideas do. But the hype about ideas – the one made by my implicit audience/reader – is as decisive as the idea, and sometimes, and that’s when philosophers have to take recluse, even more.

I can fight for my Idea but will i retain it? While it walks I think I'll take time out to take in music, the cheesiness of B-grade flicks and Chengiz’s wet doggy breath on my face. And I guess if I only have the Idea without any of the above the real deal would cake.

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17^th Jan

Today is a Sunday. I woke up late, forgetting that I’d fixed up to go with my cousin to Yamuna Biodiversity Park to shoot (photograph) birds. And as I write this, I get a strong sensation of déjà vu. I feel I’ve ditched him on shooting in YBP before and I was feeling pleased that I’d had my shampoo, and thinking about what to do with the rest of the day. Yes we’ve all seen the Matrix and gathered how this sensation is simply caused by a rip in, well, the matrix. But actually I have indeed ditched my cousin a couple of Sundays ago on the same matter, and I always feel pleased after my shampoo and never know what else to do on Sundays. Yet the fact that these thoughts happened to occur in a sequence I immediately recognised and which happened to startle me only wants me to say that there’s something going with déjà vu that is not adequately explored.

I don’t want to flog the old dream-horse, but maybe an existence you dreamt of, oh ok imagined, has a life of its own. And if we want it or fear it badly enough, it gets manifested. How? Well I tend to like the explanation of the elemental, and unexplained, power of prayer, good or bad.

Here’s an illustration. I crave the anda curry at the open-air dhaba outside Office. There is a tree canopy right above the seating (dining if you prefer, though it sounds a bit presumptuous) area and on said tree, sit an army of pigeons poised with glutinous artillery. I fear getting hit, yet, I crave the anda curry. At some point while I’m eating the anda curry, my fear might imperceptibly have superceded my craving, to send palpably vulnerable vibes above. The result: I am besplattered.

So in some senses, perhaps it pays more to work on the imaginary than on the much-touted life-skills that I’ve always envied in people. Of course if you have another explanation you’ve arrived at, let me say straight out that I’m happy for you and how happy it is for me you’ve been with me this far.

Also, if you’ve borne patiently with all I’ve had to say till now I’d just like to clarify that if it seems like I’m dangerously veering on the controversial frock-tails of religion, I absolutely don’t mean to. Religion, or should I say faith, has my best regards considering its how we’ve been giving a semblance of knowledge to things beyond our comprehension since Fred and Wilma. But once in a while, if we put our faith in our own ability to arrive at knowledge rather than in a knowledge arrived collectively, sometimes so far back that it doesn’t matter if it was said at all as long as it can only be cited reverently, then, well, I’d finish my sentences more contentedly.

Initially I don’t really think I dared to find out much, but I sure was curious and though it nearly throttled me, I found an air inlet, which I religiously (no pun intended) exercise.

As regards the unknown, that vast, nebulous territory in which we might, you know, be leading parallel lives, I spent some time speculating over it and ended up finding out a lot more about the world I thought I already knew. So, yes I know its Sunday, but don’t just sit there and watch TV. Dream, or at least watch Discovery.

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18^th Jan

Welcome to Monday. Apropos my earlier theories on dreaming, they are somewhat weighed by the despair that is woven with the progression of the week. Today, I seem to realise I'm overweight, I don’t know what I'm working towards and there’s nothing on Tv. Actually I don’t have anything more to say about Monday. But if Monday’s working out differently for you, you’ve got it sorted out and I’m coming over.

But I have to say here, and note that I am going to contradict my previous promise to not elaborate on Mondays, because it is a Monday and I can change my mind about everything in the known universe. What I want to say is that once in a polka-dotted blue moon, a Monday can bring a startling revelation which needn’t sap you of of joy or freewill. Again, if you were part of that revelation, I’m coming over.

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19^th Jan

Tuesday, contrary to popular belief does precious little for discovery. Tuesday brings a hope that in its very premise, is false. “I am over Monday, so this is a good day.” Or “I should tell everybody how I survived Monday, and that’ll set the tone for a jovial get-together with friends.” I stand to gain nothing by denigrating Tuesdays, but it might be that it is a time to focus on short-term ideas, given that the larger picture is blissfully hazy.

I went out to lunch at The Big Chill today. Lunch was fine and I didn’t even notice I was eating with my left hand, which is something I’ve been at for a while because I saw on Discovery that eating with your secondary hand slows down your food intake. Tanya says I shouldn’t be playing with my left-oriented brain, however, I feel that developing a new skill does that anyhow.

It isn’t entirely true though that I was only chomping away without observing my surroundings. I saw a poster of The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. He also starred as a spook in a zoo of horrors, and other such protein-deficient roles in various Hollywood embarrassments of the 50s and 60s. I wont philosophise about the irony inherent in acting, etc but I guess even the dream-making industry is imperfect. That observation perhaps was not in line with the day’s promise (c.f discoveries), but I felt that The Tin Man may have been stuck in a perpetual Tuesday ­– making it into Hollywood and never making it big.

To tell the truth, making it big is not the tagline of my subliminal thoughts, yet the finely-lettered conditions that do keep popping up when I contemplate a risk can really be a party pooper. I’m not even saying I want to grow feathers and fly in the Andes without having to think of Mountain Rescue, I mean I'd just be happy if I could drink coffee without remorse. On which hopeful note, I shall risk a supremely disparaging critique and send this to a friend.

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20^th Jan

Can you discover you love a place you haven’t been to? Or one you couldn’t connect with even when you were in it, you know, a little like the awkward conversations you end up having with people you think you share something deeper with? And when I am able to say exactly what I imagine myself saying, am I somehow limiting the scope of things, sacrificing the genuine feeling of the moment?

The place/person that gets by without feeling the need to explain itself must be eminently worth exploring.

Of course, I insist that statement not be taken at face-value. In Delhi, the expression ‘nobody gives a hoot’ takes on incredible dimensions what with every conceivable body honking or barking at you for being in their way, or more often than not, just being. A friend actually asked me how I relate to this city and my retort was a sound so despairing, nauseated and frankly, confused, that it would have to be digitally remastered a couple of dozen times to sound respectable.

This is the reason I feel no guilt or compunctions when it comes to being unfaithful to Delhi. My job is based here but requires focusing on the possibilities of travel in other nooks of India, thus giving me considerable leeway to rave about facets that only cities that are not Delhi possess. I occasionally have to hide realities like Naxalite infestation or appalling roads with standard adjectives like ‘scenic’, ‘verdant’, ‘azure’ and my favourite description – ‘the traditional jostling for space with the modern’. However, I also get to flee Delhi and see another locale in its entirety, and put to rest hoaxes that tour guides, even online guides, pull.

Anyhow the digression was to ease into the much-spieled physical spaces that dreams inhabit. Sometimes I know I love a city because it is not as brash or as uninspired as Delhi, but I guess I also tend to disregard their negatives. And then it strikes me that an ideal city ideally is nothing like I imagine. And if you still ask me where I’d like to live if I had a choice, I guess my answer to you would be that I’ll tell you if you promise to surprise me.

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Thursday.

Among things hinting to hover on the horizon, and helping me Hope, are: my favourite reader, the weekend, and the hope of l’amore.

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22^nd Jan

Should – that self-manifested and self-consuming term of imperative inclination that occasionally seeps into my reveries and resolutions to compromise a dream.

The thing is I’ve been creating imperatives for myself for quite a while and the world as such probably doesn’t give a raccoon’s ass. Yet the day’s lessons dangle like pearls which I feel I must catch in order not to feel done in. Like the 400 rupees I think I dropped somewhere. Also maybe like listening carefully when asked for advice so as to not miss out the underlying text of a question, so as to not shoot my mouth. Like when Sunint asked if he should bite back if a dog bit him. Chengy was kind of pottering about when he asked so I happened to answer with a very literal No. If Sunint drew a reasonably satisfactory metaphorical meaning from the answer however, I must say, the lad is wise beyond his years. However, if I was at the receiving end of some advice, I guess it would be up to me to decide whether or not it became an imperative. Well, it should.

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Saturday

I woke up at the crack of dawn (8.30!) to make it in time for the 11 am movie at Saket with Bodhi and Nidhi. Nidhi just informed me the plan’s scrapped because that ()*^%^$ Bodhi is sleeping…Sleeping! At this point I should defenestrate the blighter, but there are the laws of the land to heed.

Anywho, maybe I was meant to come early so I could deliberate on the scintillating start to the weekend. Firstly, I’m writing ‘Saturday’ in office, because there's no other work. If the words ‘no other work’ made a significant impression on you as you read that sentence, I am consoled to find a fellow Loser. If, however, you staggered as you read the words ‘Saturday’ and ‘office’ in succession, you have just won yourself a Smart Robert certificate from the International Institute of Feline Faculties.

Once, during an unusually intimate conversation with a 10^th level Dan from said institute, I happened to learn that I knew nothing about what is worth knowing and thus, weekends were (and I think I saw him cringe as he said this) wasted on me. That said, I would like to point out that the Loser, contrary to perception, is usually prepared for a promising weekend. However, because (s)he lacks the super-surety to convince Another about her plans and/or goals, she wonders if there was a larger POA she ought to pursue... Ok i had written here that before she knows it, she is carried into Monday... But... here we see off the 'buts' and get with the little projects.