The Circle

This last week I had been watching a show - The Circle on Netflix. Initially was looking for a light watch - seeking primarily a 'comedy' experience. I felt this would be the classic American parody where you keep laughing at the American IQ level and feel good about yourself!

However, a couple of episodes down, I was addicted. To the sheer audacity of how the participants chose to be human.

Judging a book by its cover is wrong - and so is writing someone else's story. But what really leads to a strong bond is the impact of authenticity - how real one is, how honest and genuine one is to work on values of harmony, collaboration and togetherness and lastly how sincere one is to be true to those promises made.

What spun out, was a good old tale of bromance, friendship and the vow to have each other's back till the end. Flirts and flirtation was avoided - brains celebrated over beauty and a healthy bond instead between the genders.

It got me thinking - isn't that what we want too? In our personal and professional lives? Aren't these the values we stand for too?

Professionally speaking its difficult to find allies and friends at work place. Ego takes over. Perceptions are based on how you seem 'visible' and 'jovial' to all - basically people celebrate the 'shallow' over the 'real and deep'.

Its the world of deep-fakes then. Where courage does not assist one to open up and dare to be an open book. The bonds made then - would be just as shallow, right? And would they be worth it? Worth the energy and time wasted?

The Circle brought be back 360 degree to my own rooted values. The show was actually one of the multiple signs I had been greeted with this last month - on how vulnerability and authenticity guides you to the right kindred spirits.

On one hand, there are the twin horns of Resident Ego - the pallbearer of what is right that is subjective unto itself. Yet they feel it's their right ti impose their version of 'right' onto others. What I have realized that 'fakes' love conformity and the herd mentality - to follow the path only known to all and therefore be 'right' and never left out. Yet fakes must come across as intelligent too - so they try to play chess with their fake brains - trying to phish and pawn real people - so that their ego stands vindicated.

It's a tough world for the 'real' people then  - who seek the real deal and nothing less. Alliance with the 'fakes' seem to be a compromise.

On the other hand of my people spectrum, I have the genuine and sincere versions of hard-work, labor of love and the spirit of creativity that sparks bright and lights up others' world too. This tribe is made up of infinite possibilities - the do till you die attitude and scoff at all things shallow. Brings to mind, Howard Roark? No wonder, then , I have retreated back into reading Fountainhead for the second time - to only dig my deep roots deeper and vibe with the right tribe.

The Circle and my own current Circle make me realize the value of valor lies in affirming the boldness of truth ruthlessly - standing up for the entire tribe as one, sharing out loud the one story  in one voice and having each others' back all the way - until the very end.

'Fakes' are so shallow that they are rid with insecurities and constantly on the look-out for trouble - self-created for self or others for their sadistic delights. They lack confidence to hold their head high, facts to hold their spine upright and real gumption to stand in the crowd without sucking in their gut.

So long social conditioning had made us try to prioritize these fakes over the reals - as fakes were less trouble. But are they?

Are these social conditioning programs now breaking down? Are we slowly realizing our own worth and finding our own pack of wolves to carry us to the light? I suppose so. I clearly have found and nothing feels stronger than that dawn of awakening! 

Small town boy

The cave-man is often an allegory that is abused. When used, causes ruffles and ego hurts - however deep-down everyone knows the truth. Plato, in one of his theories, had brilliantly used the allegory to talk about the shackles of ignorance that blinds us from our 'goodness purpose'

All that is great - if the cave-man inside is a beast that reduces your consciousness to mere dot instead of being the infinity unto itself. Instead of the Pygmalion effect - the cave-man causes the corollary - the famous (or infamous) Goleth effect.

Now, why would I delving deep into the cave-man today? Its my food for thought for today - something I'd been avoiding for the last 8 years

Perceptions - or the trap of it - causes you to close your eyes willingly to the signs that stand out blatantly - for you to acknowledge if not pay heed to.

You meet someone - eyes and mind glaze over by suaveness. The concept of 'man' gains a new definition and form. With every passing year, you find the magnitude of thoughts expound in magnanimity of his being - you wonder what you did to earn such luck!

His words glide through - a smokescreen to the craggy hemisphere. His mannerisms engulf - and finally suffuse. His demeanor so gentlemanly - yet finally unearthly!

When you flow into the comfort zone, you will yourself to cross the tepid waters to be yourself - un-peeling all your layers - to reveal the self made of simplicity. You gall yourself to face him - with a face devoid of make-up and naked eyes kohl-unlined. It takes courage to show the true self - made of nothing but a wonderment of being and exploring. The concept of togetherness gains harmony - regains trust.

The child in you finds faith in the innocence - the hand you hold assures you of the safe path ahead. You find shelter and security in the broad shoulders - the musk of the cologne familiar yet so fresh. Life is a refreshing concept again - livable once more.

Cheeks aflush, eyes rosy - the future looks bright in the tinted glasses.

Then you see the cracks. When what you supposed as normal in your growing up days - suddenly gets questioned. Suddenly there is a barrage of words - garbage akin they fall on you. Instead of rosy petals - you find yourself shrouded with the fallen leaves.

The naked truth finally glares at your face - while you stare at the perfect picture torn into pieces.

You're labelled the most common word in the dictionary - which all insecure men reserve for their women - when threatened. You find that label then suddenly defining your self worth and life.

Every day then just drags on. The cave-man has revealed its true beastly form - he is made of violence, putrid fury and insecurity. He lashes out at the woman. He strikes her and labels her some more.

Finally when he reaches out to her kids in the same fury - she snaps finally!

She decides that she has no time for the cave-man. The 8 years were the black-hole of energy, space and time.

She sees through his facade - and his charade to be the metro man. Despite years of education, degrees and almost 2 decades of work experience - he is at heart, a small town boy : insecure of the city girl and her ways.

His face then permanently remains etched in her memory with a sneer. His presence becomes a  jeer unto itself. He fades away - as she takes strides away from him. Because she is the city girl "made of bold" - no time for the "old"

She feels nothing but pity for him and hurt at the lost time. Yet, through it all she has learned. The mental checklist has emerged and the coolness to nerves has been restored.

Inkaar!

Inkaar is a movie that has run parallel to my life. The plot is the pallbearer of #METOO perhaps. I had seen it once, at a happier time of my life - and yet again now when life has taken  180 degree turn.



The film brought to life, emotions forcibly suppressed. The music had the eerie tones of faded nostalgia. Familiar tears pricked eyes - the sea-salt taste merged with the bitterness of being.

We all chase the eternal concept of love - to last a lifetime. Yet certain actions reduce it to ephemeral. The romance is perhaps is in the chase then.

What if burnt expectations and lost dreams, twist the deep-seated love into pure hatred? Does hatred consume you? When is the moment that you realize that its not you, but your id suffused with hatred - that has given your voice a hard edge and your demeanor the sharpness?

The film roves through the bitter-sweet journey of love's labor lost and words chosen to be unsaid. Instead actions that spoke louder than words - were enough to push each other away. Yet, the underlined reasoning was basis the purity of emotions.

Question therefore, in the turbulence of life - when all is distant and self -access is remote too - lost in the virtual threads of the many realities we wade through each - is it possible to subvert hatred into its pure form of love?

Are they really the two sides of the same coin?
Can they exist without each other? And what about with each other?
What if the hatred is too deep to let go - yet your entire being cries for its release?

What really is the path to light? 

Jai Shri Mere Ram

जय श्री मेरे राम

मंदिर की अब लेके मांग

जोर से बोलो जय श्री राम

अब हो के रहेगा ये संग्राम

हर ईंट पे लिख दो जय श्री राम

रोके कोई तो लो गर्दन थाम

राम राज्य का करो ऐलान

हाथ में भाला हो या बाण

दुश्मन का न बचे निशान

दूजे धर्म के लोग हराम

बस कर दो उनका काम तमाम

हर योगी अब परशुराम

ले लो कुर्सी और बनो प्रधान

पर मेरे राम का क्यों लेते हो नाम

ये पाप न धुलेंगे चारो धाम

स्वयं कहेंगे मेरे राम

ना "तुम" मुझको करो प्रणाम

करते हो तुम ऐसे काम

लगते हो रावण संतान

कितने भिन्न है अपने राम

लगते नहीं है एक समान

कृपा सिंधु थे मेरे राम

और आपके मांगे किसकी जान ?

कबीर तुलसी उन्हें करे प्रणाम

राम कथा का देते ज्ञान

पल में छोड़ा राजा का मान

सौतेली माता का सम्मान

क्यों छोड़ा अपना जन्मस्थान ?

क्यों ना किया युद्ध ऐलान ?

वचन पूर्ति में दिया बलिदान

वनवासित हो गए मेरे राम

केवट शबरी एक सामान

भेद न वानर ना इंसान

दुश्मन का भी हो सम्मान

लक्ष्मण को वो देते ज्ञान

हर मर्यादा का सम्मान

इसीलिए पुरषोत्तम मेरे राम

आपको कब समझेंगे मेरे राम

ये ना इतना आसान काम

पहल द्वेष को लगे लगाम

क्रोध को दो थोड़ा विश्राम

व्यर्थ है मंदिर की ये मांग

जब तक ना समझे मेरे राम

मंदिर बांधो या गुरुधाम

गिरा के मस्जिद बनो बलवान

पर ना करना दुष्टों का काम

लगा के नारे जय श्री राम

जब दिल में बस जाए मेरे राम

तब कहलाओ तुम हनुमान

परम भक्ति का वो है मान

तब तुम कहना जय श्री राम

जब तुम पाओगे मेरे राम

लब  पर होगी एक मुस्कान

शांत चित्त से हम करे प्रणाम

नारा नहीं पर भजन समान

रघुपति राघव राजा राम

पतित पावन सीता राम.

Gunahgaar - The Guilty

कभी दिन ढले उसे मेरी कब्र पर देख कर, मुझे ये डर सा लगता है

की कहीं आज वो पुराने उसी हिसाब की बात ना कर दे

हिसाब तो आज भी काफी बाकी है उसके एहसानों का,

कहीं आज उन एहसानों का बोझ हमे पराया ना कर दे

उन एहसानों का कहाँ मुझपर कोई भार था,

 क्यूंकि हरेक एहसान तोह बस एक मुक्तलिफ़ सा औजार था

कुछ एहसान तो शायद चुकाए भी थे मैंने,

पर इश्क़ कहाँ एहसानों का बाजार था?

खौफ तो है उन ज़ख्मों का जो जाने अनजाने में कुछ उधार से रह गए,

जब दरिया -ए - जिंदगी के सैलाबों में हम कुछ लाचार से रह गए

कयामत के इन्साफ का तो पता नहीं है यारों,

पर उसकी नादान नज़रों में हम गुनेहगार से रह गए

क्या उन ज़ख्मों की याद नहीं आती होगी उसको,

क्या ये कब्र उनकी याद नहीं दिलाती होगी उसको

मौत में भी सुकून ना पाया हमने यारों,

पर क्या वही बात आज भी रुलाती होगी उसको

दरिया -ऐ -दिल है उसका यह तो मैं भी जानता हूँ,

वक़्त एक तिलस्मी मरहम है यह मैं भी मानता हूँ

भूल गई होगी शायद वो उन आंसुओं का दर्द,

पर उस हरेक आंसू की कीमत तो मैं ही जानता हूँ

बड़ी हसरतों से हमने ये एक आशियाँ बनाया था

हरेक ख़्वाब को पिरो के ये मकान सजाया था

रह गयी दरारें मेरी गलतियों की इन दीवारों में काफी

पर हरेक दरार को उसने झरोखा मान के अपनाया था

चलो खैर - इन सिलसिलों को हुए ज़माना भी गया बीत

रिश्ता ये मजबूत सब उलझनों से गया जीत

मशगूल हम तो हो गए ज़िन्दगी की लहर में

आज के हर हमले से मेरा कल होता गया अतीत

इस मुकम्मल मेरे रिश्ते की एक दिलकश सी वजह है

हर अँधेरे की रौशनी है वह, वह मेरी सुबह है

पर फिर भी कभी दिन ढले उसे मेरी कब्र पर देख कर लगता है

उन गुनाहों से क्या मेरी ये रूह रिहा है?

Folklore Retold

<Inspired by a true incident>



August 15th , 2017. "Dry day in all senses - blistering weather outside and no scope of buying my booze for the night. How will I live through another night without my placebo boosters? Why did I not think of stocking up?", thought Aman - furious at his own callousness.

He looked at his watch - FitBit Charge - given by his sister on Rakhi, to mark yet another year of the virtuous cycle of sibling rivalry. Aman's sister, Preeti, of a calm mind and a calmer disposition - had got it together early in life. Signs of her life's stability, had been evidenced early in their teenage years, through the cleverly organized desk. Her life redefined and justified her nomenclature.

On the other hand, Aman's life was very distant from the true meaning of his name. "How ironic!" he used to think, sarcastically to himself - on moments when after 3 pegs of his favorite Scotch liquor, he allowed himself to wallow in self-pity. He did so, also to escape the daily nightmares of murder and deceit that he kept seeing - of faceless strangers, yet so familiar.

It was 5 mins past 6 am, when Aman had looked into his watch and thought that surprisingly he had woken up before his alarm, scheduled at 6.30 am. Nowadays, he had a motivational podcast as his alarm. His FitBit flashed a notification of the workshop he was due to attend - Family Constellation - as suggested by one of his office peers, to bring some "aman" into his life.

When Aman walked into the workshop venue, he was greeted by an eclectic mix of attendees. All seemed nervous - as if scared about what could be revealed. More women than men - not surprising again, Aman thought. Men may think this is too sissy.

The moderators had arrived and were helping to introduce the group to one another. That done, the overarching premise of Family Constellation was explained graphically and the possible impact discussed at great length.

Volunteers were called forth. Aman raised his hand - he liked being the first at most things in his life.
Confident in his stride, he walked over to the moderators and articulated his 'issue'.

"I am here as I seek to understand how to belong. I often find myself misplaced - or as a misfit in my family. Sometimes not loved enough, not respected enough or seen as a black sheep for the anarchic choices I may have made that had caused a rift in my family. Today, I want to understand what really has triggered this slight animosity towards me by my family members - for no fault of mine. Even though I am unfailingly courteous to everyone - even Tiny the Shi Tzu pup that my sister has adopted!"

Moderator 1 - "Aman, pick people whom you feel, can best represent you and your family members"

Aman selected 3 amongst the audience. The role play began - with dialogues flying back and forth.
Aman was close to his father but felt neglected by his mother. His parents' perfect harmony served as an anxiety to him - as it was unveiled that he himself wasnt able to hang on to his partner.

Aman sat at the corner - watching the role-play. His curiosity was abound - his eyes had a peculiar look. Suddenly from the audience, a woman stood up - "I feel wronged. I belong here. But I have been abused. I feel wronged. I need my justice!"

Silence descended in the room - like a heavy drape that dumbfounded the passive spectators. The woman got up - she was one among the group attending the workshop - however, the energy shift in the room affected her to play a different persona.

Moderator 2 asked her to take a position in the constellation formed. She went behind the man playing Aman and stood - clutching on to him. "This boy is mine!" she proclaimed. He gives me voice. He will avenge me.

Stunned, the real Aman looked on. "What was this folklore unfolding? Who is she?" he thought. Exact thoughts percolated the mind-spaces of all involved.

The woman then dragged the man playing Aman to behind his 'parents' - indicating that she was from a generation too many apart.

"I was abused here. No-one gave me my right. No-one claimed me. No-one made me feel belonged. I was murdered. I was hidden. My child taken away. My body thrown into the sea." the woman continued in a ghostly whisper - while the on-lookers peered on, at the spectacle unfolding - aghast at the possibility of a ghost's voice descending in the room.

It was spooky and yet riveting. It was like a Bollywood film - only too real to be ignored. Aman was stricken as a horrible thought struck him. "Is it...?" he kept thinking, frantically.

Suddenly another gentleman of medium build and a red face with teary eyes stood up. His tears streaked down his salt and pepper beard and matted the hair that lay plastered to his cheeks. He gave loud sniffs and quietly stole up beside the woman - again generations beyond.

"I am sorry. I had wronged you. I had to let you go. No-one knew about us. Yet I had so wanted others to know our love story." the sobbing man continued.

"Why?!" the woman screamed out. "Why was I the victim of your hypocrisy then? Why not Sharda? Why not your younger brother, Suman?" she railed.

"Oh my god. It's true!" Aman thought. "The family folklore was true. There really was a second marriage and a murder in my family!"

The sobbing man continued to beg forgiveness. "I am sorry, my love. It wasn't meant to be this way. I had to keep you a secret. We married when we were young and then you had a bonny boy. But I never had the courage to defy my Babuji, who already had selected a bride for me. I had to marry her. Sharda was very innocent. Your boy..our boy .. now is a grown up man with his own family. A grandfather too. I watch over him...he had to go.. he was the symbol of our secret.."

"Why did you murder me? Why did you take my child away?" the woman screamed - her agony apparent.

The real Aman, sitting in the audience, marveled at the participant's enactment. It wasn't acting - he was sure. These were quiet and buried family secrets - never to see the daylight.

"I did not. My brother did... he had to protect the family honor.." the man, whispered.

Moderator 1 stepped in. "I think its clear what is happening..her soul needs to be honored.. " So let's all pray ....

"Wow" thought Aman. "What was she trying to tell me all this while then? She was then never truly at peace. She wanted me to enable her to hear a confession - that she deserved. Did she get her peace? The adage is so true - "age deserves honor!" ...

And suddenly Aman felt that a great weight shifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter - the everyday headache that he grown immune too - suddenly disappeared. He felt a hand caress his head lovingly - and the woman beside him enacting the aggrieved soul - whispering to him -"darling boy.. thank-you. I had known that you would help me. You are free now. Go live your life. I'll watch over you.."

CANDLES

This is Eva Mozes Kors. She was one of the Auschwitz twins, who survived the Holocaust and the twin experiments by Mengele. I had read about her earlier, when she gave an impassioned speech , as CANDLES founder - where she preached on the value of love and kindness out-witting human folly of hatred, negativity and treachery. Now she is dead - but her legacy lives on. 

I had first read about the twins experiment in a Mauve Binchy's book - the gruesome details shocked, saddened and yet enraptured. Mainly because the details seemed so inhuman. Nazism and I suppose other forms of insanity the world over - are quite the permanent and ever growing footprints of human inhumanity. 

Eva had written and spoken extensively  about , how she had been taken captive by the Nazis on the basis of the Jew bias - her family, sans her twin, were put into gas chambers. She and her twin, Miriam, suffered the brutality of the experiments - where they were injected different germs and hormones as Nazis sought to 'create' the superior race in the world. 

Luckily, one night both escaped - as the camp was liberated by the Soviet army. Her mothers friend helped take charge of both - finally enabling them to live a 'normal' life. 

Miriam however, was in Austria, while Eva had to make the long journey to USA - where she made her new life. Later in life, Eva suffered numerous miscarriages as a result of her treatment in the camp. When she did have a child, she developed cancer. She also developed tuberculosis. Miriam had kidney problems because her kidneys never fully developed. Eva gave one of her kidneys to Miriam, saying: "I have one sister and two kidneys". Miriam died of kidney cancer.

It was in 1984, that Eva founded CANDLES - where she helped bring to light the gruesome experiments. Till then, the knowledge had not been out in the open / accepted by people the world over. With that she proclaimed, that even when she was tortured, she kept the values of forgiveness, love and kindness, at heart - beseeching the Nazi guards who even injected her arm full of unknown elements. 

CANDLES became the hallmark of a virtuous cycle - to forgive and understand. That was Eva's legacy. 

Very few of us, practice this. There is an inherent quality in most, to negate, resist and attempt to fade out the 'goodness' of life. 

Even in our day to day dealings with people, where most of us are so pathetically transactional - we forget that one day - way back in the past - we must have been taught these values in school. When and where did we lose touch and sight of these values - is unbeknownst and a shame!

Today, Eva came to my mind. Today, my best birthday present from my SO was realization of the lost values and the need to refresh my belief system too - along the way. 

In our struggle to live a 'normal' life - we forget the core / root / base that anchors us. We look at the green vales, blue skies and the gold of the luxurious life - forgetting the labor of love, that went behind such creation. 

Its funny - how in our mundane relationships- we forget the smallest of smiles - as a token of appreciation, value and love. We are perhaps, scared to show the love to others - which we know we have, locked deep in our hearts - afraid to let that shine out. We disarm love to be defenceless, powerless and therefore fruitless. 

I believe, that every day, we must make that attempt to simply smile. At others who smile at us. Thank others who help us. Be empathetic to people who may not seem to have heard us.  And above all, love the real people in our lives with the integral values of love, kindness, respect and unconditionality.

Hail eva!!

Umut

Lately, I am quite addicted to Turkish Dramas. It all started with Fatmagul. The next one to stir my conscience was Kordugum - Turkish for "Intersection"



Predictable yet unpredictable in its flow and plot -  Intersection gave me sleepless nights, puffy eyes and red eyes - as each episode kept me up till late nights.

It all starts with a marriage on the rocks and the woman fatefully meets Ali Nejat. Love does not have its usual trajectory - there is no high point of passion shown : rather the delectable and shadowy bonds of the human mind.

At the heart of the plot is a little boy, who's destiny lets him to leads him to tread un-chartered waters everyday - as he tries to make sense of his reality. The drama unfolds the bond of a new father with a son he had been unaware of - as well as explore the intricacies of the human expectations across relationships.

Why this particular piece is titled Umut is because the character seemed very similar to a personal episode. Umut is a typical man we may come across everyday - seemingly frustrated with the lack of direction in his own life, perpetrator of a rocky marriage, suspicious and jealous of his partner. Interestingly Umut is Turkish for "hope" - however, life paints him quite, hopeless.

He comes across as a personality who keeps shouting, throwing things around, being volatile and the kind who fails to use his ears properly. He is the victim of his own insensibility.

In the end, the protagonist decides to leave him - as he with one blow ends their "hopes" for a future (Naz has a miscarriage, following a fight with Umut when he pushes her and she falls losing her balance).

To me the series was an epiphany - a particular toxicity lives, witnessed live on screen. I have realized, no matter how "open", progressive or broad minded men could be about many spheres of life - yet, when it comes to the fundamentals of a relationship, roots speak for themselves. A tier 2 man will forever be stuck in his origin story.

Despite the professional or corporate progressive attitude, if the mind of the man is stuck behind - "who is she talking to, she is a slut, she cannot be trusted.." - sadly, it speaks of the regressive character and mindset behind that so-called evolved mental make-up.

A man like this believes that 'slut shaming' would somehow be destructive and even moralistic - may also stretch his imagination to believe that the upbringing was faulty or the school lacked suitable moral science lectures. So this kind of a man- spearheads mankind - in his dexterous and arduous attempt at correction and correlation.

A man like this would also love to blame the woman for everything - feeding off on her insecurity and elevating it to a fever pitch so that she coils around him. And when the coil becomes a recoil - he automatically moves on to the offensive - attacking with spite and a few chosen words that enact his chiseled intelligence.

Take for instance, a particular issue the woman might seek his guidance on or merely a listener-ship if nothing else. The man is the self-appointed ruler of the moralistic kingdom and instead of being a friend becomes the soothsayer - all eventualities pointing unfairly and unfavorably in the woman's direction.

This kind of a man comes from his own set of superiority values - he believes he is above all though he lives under his own faux pas of inequality. Specially in a relationship, this man becomes the God - worships his own way of the world and seeks deference or fear in place of unrequited love.

Wonder what is really the "Umut" for such Umuts?!

The Show Must Go On..

Gnarly and twisted concepts filled my head as I looked at my phone and booked the much anticipated movie - Bohemian Rhapsody. Over the course of the last few days, I had been battling with the concepts of love, family, friendship, exclusivity and future. All are interlinked and ladder onto the final benefit of happiness - itself an illusive realm.

Somewhere down the road, life tells you that expectations are always meant to be unmet - or be un-mated. Convergence of hopes, dreams and expectations for the future are a folly - a mere futility.

As I made my way to the movie theater, my fevered body processed the slight nip in the wind with alarming degrees. Seemed to corroborate to the overall mood and myopia.

The 2 hours of magical spell left me breathless. From start to end, I devoured every scene - like the hungry teen who has been left  bereft of Freddie's shadow. Unbeknownst, I realized, in one way or the way, Queen had its heart-prints imprinted all over my life. I have grown up with this music, with this school of thought and with this wonder.

The film starts first and foremost with the quest and question of BELONGING. Home by default is the belonging zone for many - but for a few, its a jail where you feel like a misfit. ESCAPE then becomes the only and lonely adventure to thrust the vagrant spirit into carving out a niche for itself.

Freddie never belonged - the feeling of void alone the stoke for his creative fire where he let loose his ire. He found a home in Mary - but the next question of SEXUALITY stole his nest.

Yet, he found a cocoon by way of GOOD FRIENDS in Mary along with his band members. The film then moves down the trajectory of discovering GOOD vs BAD FRIENDS.

The question of IDENTITY soon looms larger than life - all consuming in its flame, as Freddie grapples with time-lines, emotions, sexual borders and fleeting people to make sense of his own reality. What must be created, what already exists and what must be projected - the myriad questions hover around his own self-denial / acceptance of himself.

Here I take recourse to my own  mind meanderings - highlighted by certain facets in the movie. Jim Hutton tells Freddie - to be loved, one has to love himself. True. Often we find ourselves hurtling down paths laid down by others - understanding the pathos of our own loss of control over our own reality but we are forced to live / re-live the compromise. We make believe that the fantasy world we are led through by the alpha wolf, is a beta war-path : our own emblazoned love beating in our hearts, a self-effacing war-cry.

In our lifetimes, we often meet people - God fearing themselves but unafraid to play God-men. They cheat themselves of the epithet of a Rainmaker - true. They make hay while the rain pours - from another's eyes.

The concept of friendship is either transient or transparent to the point of being non-existent. As I have grown older, not only has my friends circle shrunk to a miserable threesome - but within that too, I sense distance, malice and truancy. Or, is it all my imagination? See - we all fight with the quest for identity - closely linked with our immediate circles - real or virtual.

You keep questioning - who is there for you truly? Who is the real friend - not always in need or deed but just someone who respects the "being" in and of time?

Belonging - we yearn for that perfect home to enconsce ourselves - leaving our conscience behind. The mighty Almighty question of home is plighty - is it a person, a place or a combination of both? What if, the person you thought as home disappears - does the structure you return back from work to, cease to be your home or shelter? Does it not wrap you up in its essence - envelope you in its warmth? Was it not a home you'd once created too - with the departed soul before the latter became a soul-less ghoul?

In the tide of times, where do we begin and end? What makes us be us and to what extent are we really in control of our own lives? What makes us happy these days or is sadness the predominant emotion that engulfs as it separates reality from fantasy?


Yet we trudge on. Darkened by the darkness - set alight by the brightness of our own innate being-ness. The Show Must Go On.

The unknown companion.....

Midnight is not exactly anyone’s dream hour to be behind the wheels trying to juggle two seemingly contrasting jobs at the same time - driving and sleeping.  However as history has it (at least since automobiles were introduced), every once in a while, a true braveheart must undertake this hypnotic act and literally live to tell the tale.

This past weekend destiny (read my Travel Plans) decided to hand me this task and judge if I could live up to its daunting challenges.  Like every Don Quixote  who has had that “one for the road” extra drink, I decided to take up the challenge and considered it an act of weakness to succumb to the somnolent desires. So at midnight, here I was zipping and swirling through the “video game like” labyrinth of Interstate Highways and Freeways of Texas while Hypnos the God of Sleep and his half brother Thanatos the God of Death ferociously fought over who should get my final “custody”.  Fortunately for me and unfortunately for many of you, Thanatos and MS Dhoni both were later found drinking at the same bar and licking their failure wounds as I lived on…..

So, on this entrancing ride to the Beaver Bend State Park as I was juggling with my cell phone, my GPS (which refuses to form a bond with the dashboard), and a water bottle ---  at one enlightening moment, I realized that after a long time in my driving career, I was the only “one” on the road. This was a single lane state highway, with no lights, large fields bordering it on both sides and no one in sight. I quickly glanced around and looked in all mirrors to spot some signs of human existence, but all in vain. This gave me a glimpse of how Mars Rover might be feeling every day. However even Rovers has the excitement of unpaved roads and a distant communicative companion(s) in “Houston”.  I did not have that luxury !!

A moment after I realized my lonely existence, the ubiquitous sadist in me quizzed me in a Rapid fire round……

Do you have fuel in the car?...

Is it enough?..............

Do you have Cash in your pocket?.........

When did you last check the air pressure?....

 Why did you not get the “Check Engine” light checked?….

Did you renew your AAA membership? …..

Is your insurance card updated?............

Does your cell phone have coverage? ….

What if your car breaks down here?........

Where is the damn flashlight?......

What about the dead body in the boot?.... ok maybe that was in some movie…. But the others rang loud and clear in a few seconds.

Now as I tried to appease the sadist in me and convince him that “Aaalll izzz well”, I stopped juggling with my electronics and also instinctively took my foot off the gas pedal. My convincing of the inner voices might not have been that effective as some sense of insecurity still loomed in the mind. I obviously kept on driving confused if I should attempt to enjoy the serenity or hope that none of the fears actually come true. As I have trained myself to do over the years, I went through a series of “What ifs?” and realized that even if the car was to suddenly come to a screeching halt in the middle of this lonely road at this unearthly hour, I would be able to manage the “disaster”. That helped a little to calm down and keep driving, ----- not that stopping was an alternative in any case.

I must have driven a few miles in that confused state of mind, not realizing fully that this had actually helped me become fully awake and aware.  As I went downhill on the road, I saw a set of headlights appear on the horizon of my rear view mirror. In the otherwise pitch darkness they were hard to miss, rising from behind the hill – sunrise of a different kind! And suddenly I had company…. a fellow traveler, a mile away from me. Weirdly enough, I suddenly felt not only some relief but also a strange connection. I slowed down enough so that the car catches up and stays in my rear view mirror as I continued my drive to into the darkness, with a liberated sense that up close and behind I now have a companion…. I kept driving at a speed to ensure that we are in each other’s sight. Every time I felt that the distance is increasing I consciously slowed and sped up every time I thought that we are too close (lest the car overtakes). This slow waltz of ours continued for eighty odd miles, with me taking the lead. Then as we approached a town interestingly named “Paris” in Texas, we parted ways as I could see the car turn left  driving into oblivion. Now why did I feel a sense of desolation as I watched the lights disappear from my rear view mirror?

Nowhere in this entire drive did I ever figure out any details about the car – what make was it? What was its color? Was it even a car or a small pickup truck? Who was driving it? Were there others in that car? Was the master of the car equally relieved to see me drive ahead? Did he (or was it she) also make an attempt to stay close? But there it was – not just a “light” at the end of a seemingly dark tunnel but also a companion of sorts in those eighty miles.

How many times in our lives too we have such markers or milestone people who we don’t know well enough but do expect them to be “there”. How often do we then notice them only when they actually disappear?  A cobbler at the corner of a road who you never will go to but someone who you see daily working diligently head down – making someone’s life better? Someone sitting in a cubicle close to the elevator who you see daily and maybe occasionally smile at too but never even bother to read the name plate. A neighbor who you never get introduced to, but with whom you share the exact office time and see him backing out his car while you alight from the stairs. These seemingly meaningless relationships too I guess have some meaning because you do feel a sense of loss (however fleeting it may be) when that milestone ceases to exist…….