A long stemmed red carnation, standing in a mineral water bottle, next to lace curtains, in very diffused sunlight, is getting wasted. I leave for work in the morning. Maybe a quick glance, maybe not. I return much later. It stands alone.
It marks that Mom came, was happy to see a carnation at a flower-seller’s, and the next it was in my bare apartment.
Papaya in the daytime
Chilli Paneer, Tomato Basil Pasta, Tiramisu dessert and Fried Rice (full-plate) orgies by night
Some friends and I were watching the movie ‘Maine Pyaar Kiya’ on his computer.
Rakesh switched off the sound to say something to us. And then we returned to the movie. And everyone kept following it. But I could hear no sound. I remembered the concept of ‘volume’. I said ‘Turn up the volume’. Rakesh said it was on. Everyone still continued to watch the movie. And I could still hear no sound. It was a deafening silence. Very quickly I was losing the memory of sound. I wanted to get re-acquainted with sound. I couldn’t be wrong. I looked at the movie and saw the people’s lips moving and said to myself ‘Of course I am correct to expect sound. It happens. Its a normal thing’. Steadily and normally I said ‘ Yaar, turn up the volume’. Rakesh bent forward and clicked the mouse. And suddenly there was sound. It filled the room, entered my ears. The same corny reassuring film dialogues “Aunty, Prem aa gaya?”
Our gods had hashish and liquor. Intoxicated and lusty with apsaras swaying and lounging all about, they ruled the world. The world was Maya anyway. A floating illusion, an idea. A drunken God’s hallucination. Blue gods. Gods with snakes coiling around them, flicking forked tongues. A mix of poison and somras. Someone’s divine high, that’s what we are living in.
In Canada, I learnt about this problem called Bipolar disorder, that leads to acute depression.
I felt sad watching people affected by Bipolar disorder, on TV. Imagine a person wanting to die all the time. Just plain sad. And when they know they are patients of bipolar disorder, they know the feeling is meaningless but still feel generally depressed and irritable.
Watching these people,I felt another emotion. Gratefulness. I felt good that I am healthy and able to live life without biological sadness. I only deal with everday disappointments and pitfalls.
It really feels like some people bear the whole burden of sadness for the rest of humanity. It feels like that even though I am a disbeliever in cosmic connection between people.
And some people suffer from anguish and depression to create such fantastic art, like Van Gogh did. It seems like all the art does not reward the artist with long term happiness. But it is such a treat for our eyes.
In India, bipolar disorder is not even heard of. You are either normal or mad. Anything in between is self-pity or putting on a show. Well, India has her own problems to deal with. More in your face stuff like poverty.
This whole article is getting quite despairing.
Something nice I read recently, by a friend of mine - Ankit, was “Do not associate words like pseudo intellectual or wannabe cool… with people who express complexities.”
Sanity in a world of no absolutes, no forevers.
Once upon a time there was a large tree. It held onto the same soil with its strong deep immovable roots. It overlooked a flowing stream. And then there was a little plant that had frail roots. Not too deep, not too strong. It was planted in a pot. Shifted to another pot. (I dunno why but all the shifting works to illustrate my point. lol). It really didnt know what life was about since it was a new life each time and it was a new plant in new soil.
And then there was a dandelion stalk. That floated in the wind. It knew what it was and just drifted everywhere taking change to be absolute. Just that when I come around to this part in the story its tough to liken my 70 kg self to a floating dandelion stalk.
