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Fountain of the StarsDecember 22 Untitled I'm posting this here since probably no one will read it: my post-Bombay attacks literary inspiration.This is probably only the second poem I've ever written and not even a proper poem, really. Anyway, if anyone does happen to read this,let me know what you think. It's about the only terrorist they have in custody, Kasab, and what happened that night he was caught (with poetic license of course). He smiled, tension and nervousness slipping away Now that the moment was near… You should have seen him 6 hours ago, barely suppressing emotion, or trembling hands Those hands fingered the cold steel in them now Full of fire, full of potential…. And not just the instrument
He scanned the scene; the collective lamb going to slaughter. “Oh, they’ll feel the fury in just a moment… And remember it for the rest of their lives.” “Not long, then”, he thought, a little sadly But he could compromise there.
They were ready to go now. “I’ve been ready all my life”, was his first thought Tonight would seal his fate A step towards greater glory Take all the infidels with him and watch them burn Though he knew it would be gory. They were nearly there…. He could almost smell the carnage to be The thought filled him with a cold satisfaction.
They were finally here! And so it began…. Everything was going according to plan- The screams, the fear, the chaos erupted He watched it happen-cool, detached The symphony of bullets ringing from his own hand. “Look at them run, the cowards, Better to stand and face your own punishment”
He wanted to stay, but they had to move on. More damage to do before it was dawn. They were moving fast, Faster than he expected… “The fools have learnt something then” Not enough, though.
Speeding away now, To find their comrades, perhaps He stuck his head out the window, the cool sea air calming his spirit, but not his fire. More of them now, standing a few feet away… “This is too easy”, he thought, “Come out and play…. He watched them go down, but he had found his mark. His friend cheered, this was their joyride. But wait, they were not alone He could see the flashing lights just behind “We’ll take them, too More blood for our sweat”
There were more of them now He couldn’t see through the rain of shots The joyride was over, he knew, But he could still take them down. They drew in upon him… His face clouded over, They weren’t who he thought He could see the faces, A reflection of his own hatred… “It can’t be” The lambs were supposed to be innocent But this…this was beyond wrath.
He felt his fire run cold The embers were stirring on a different side now…. And he suddenly felt the brunt of their fury Pain, in forms unimaginable…. While his companion’s bloody face stared expressionless. He found himself pleading, begging to live… No pride, no shame, only will to survive The preachings of death and glory forgotten.
They relented, while his soul throbbed with pain, And saw the light, beckoning him on… He thought he heard heavenly song… Wailing, screeching, slamming in his ears “That can’t be right, though” And then a voice, a single whisper, Chilling him to the bone… Speaking the thought that echoed in his soul… “Cowards don’t deserve death. Where’s your Saviour, now?”
-Amy J. May 18 FulfillmentThough this blog is almost unofficially dead....I am back with an entry that requires writing-
I have finally fulfilled a childhood wish, which evolved into a New Year Resolution this year: Hold your breath, because you may be shocked at what's coming next-
I have finally learnt how to ride a bicycle!!!!!
<waits patiently for gasps and guffaws to subside>
Yes, that's right, I did not, uptil now, quite master the skill of riding a cycle. There were childhood attempts that for some reason faded into nothingness and I have since then kept this dark, shameful secret mostly to myself. I did discover that there were a few close friends who also belonged to this miserable club, but that alleviated my grief only a little. Even in school, we had a Hindi lesson called "Cycle ki Sawari" which struck a deep chord with me that few knew about. It was a story about a grown man's attempts to learn to ride a cycle. Though he gave up in the end, I am proud to have written a new ending to our shared story.
So I coaxed my friend into getting her cycle assembled from scratch and we started lessons.
Hurdle #1- Find a nice open space in Bombay that is not full of people who are going to laugh their guts out at a 19 year old getting onto a cycle.
To overcome this hurdle, we had to sit patiently for over 2 hours in a ground till it was empty. That was the easy part. Then I had to actually start cycling!
Hurdle #2- Damn this cycle hates me!
So I was whacked by the pedals, my fingers were sore from clutching the handlebars with a death-grip and the seat was (and still is) just really painful to sit on! Oh yeah, the balancing and actual pedalling is tough too! But by the end of day one, I felt happy that I had at least progressed- My friend had to hold the cycle with only one hand instead of two!
Hurdle #3 - The turns
Ok, so turning is hard on a cycle!! And immensely scary! By day two, I felt better going in straight lines but was still shaky on the turns. But as with generations of parents and cycle-learning-children, there is a moment when you just have to let go- which is exactly what my friend did! With the words- "And there you have it!"
I looked back to see my friend seemingly disappearing further and further away!
That moment is pure panic and exhilaration- I couldn't think so all I did was continue pedalling and pedalling and pedalling....and guess what? I did at least 3 rounds on my own before stopping!!
On this day, it was impossible to find a competely empty ground again, so I had endured the humiliation of being watched by a group of football-playing guys. Though it was satisfying to hear, as I passed them on my first terror-driven solo round- "Chalo,ab seekh gayi".
Hurdle #4- The start and stop
So although I knew how to "cycle", I couldn't actually start on my own. Or stop. Unless you counted the walls as brakes. On day three, this was the only thing left. After several unsuccesful attempts to start by myself, which included a lot of clobbering by the pedals, I was still forced to start with help and then get my balance. But the magic of cycling is, you just keep trying and trying and finally the bike just says- Oh go on and do it then, and lets you learn!!
So I have no idea how I suddenly got it, but I managed to start and just pedalled furiously before the bike could throw me off again. I did a couple of rounds and banged into a man in a wheelchair(who was sitting in the ground) before I could stop.
Obviously, the first succesful start was just a fluke. But a few more bruises and rounds later, I managed the start, the cycling and the stop! I was Queen of the World!!
So there you have it. I can finally say " I know how to do what 99.99% of the population of the world does- ride a bicycle!! "
And the best part is, once you learn, you simply can't forget! ;)
December 25 Things I have done while studying for exams1)Practised my signature endlessly for no apparent reason. 2)Made a whole bunch of lists of things I have to do immediately after the exams. 3)Made a list of all the movies I've ever wanted to see. 4)Calculated approximately how much energy I'm worth using Einstein's E=m*c*c equation. (Believe me, it's a lotta Joules!) 5)Practised writing in hindi since it's been years since I actually had to. 6)Planned the names of my future children. 7)Drawn random sketches of my surroundings, to see if I have some hidden artistic abilities. (They still seem to be hidden) 8)Compiled a map of all the places I've been to and the places I want to go in the future. 9)Planned several works of art or novels or basically, built a lot of castles in the air. 10)Blogged. In short, the time devoted to studying for exams is actually the time when people reach their creative peaks...so, we should all have study leave, but no exams!
November 27 Yes, I'm still here...This is only the second time in the history of my blog that I actually skipped a month without a single entry. Not for lack of inspiration really, but seemingly lack of time and/or sheer laziness. But I'm back (at least for now). And since I have long since resigned myself to the fact that my college will always have exams waiting just round the corner, I say to hell with 'em- I'm gonna blog anyway.
So apart from beginning my last year as a "teen", finally getting a drivers' license, and getting full marks in an exam (yes! it's true- 50 on blessed 50!!) the most recent remarkable event in my life is the ongoing celebrate bandra festival. Now in its third year, it just keeps getting better and better. I have watched 5 amazingly diverse musical performances in the last 5 days, all within 15 minutes distance from my house, and all for free!! And all because I'm lucky enough to live in the right pin code.
So I went for the Jazz Utsav '07 (formerly Jazz Yatra) the last 2 days. The first day wasn't all that awesome considering I had to wait in line 45 mins to catch only the last half an hour of the show (dear sweet Malhar memories came flooding back). But that was more than made up for by the piece of musical heaven I experienced last night. In divine compensation, or so it would seem, I only had to wait 10 mins in line before random generous uncle X handed out passes!! May all the gods in Bandra bless his soul.
If I've never thanked Shabana Azmi for anything before- let this be the first time- thank you, Ms. Azmi, for discovering the place or providing the funds or whatever it is that you did, to make the Land's End Amphitheatre the most gorgeous place to go and immerse yourself in good music.Picture swaying palms, a bright full moon, a gentle zephyr and inspired musicians and you truly feel like putting up your feet and declaring "Ah, this is the life....." And there's nothing like jazz which complements the mood so perfectly.
The best part of it all is, after the concert is over, for the first time in a big, crowded-and-yet-lonely city like Bombay, you feel like you're in a small, happy neighbourhood, where you know everyone walking around you and it's safe enough to have a moonlit stroll all the way home.....
Rock on, Bandra!
September 04 The Streak of ShameThis is an article I recently wrote for my college magazine-(yet to be published actually)
THE STREAK OF SHAME
Looking back, even now, he couldn’t remember how he had survived the ordeal. They say that the brain blocks out bad memories, but that didn’t explain how he could remember only the most excruciating details, but forget all the rest. He remembered working feverishly day and night, consumed by the passion that was his work. Meals lay forgotten at his bedside and he didn’t even know what day of the week it was. But nothing could stop him…
Finally, finally, he had broken through and found the answer! He remembered the feeling of pure happiness, of satisfaction and most of all, of tremendous excitement! Before he had realized what he was doing, he found himself in the middle of the marketplace, screaming. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and he didn’t even know what he was screaming. Was it an actual word or was it just a sound expressing his innermost feelings? He didn’t know. All he remembered was the sudden silence that descended on the marketplace. All eyes were on him. His excitement was mixed with confusion now. What was wrong with them? Had they never seen someone truly happy before? The only thing he could hear now were the echoes of his own voice screaming, “Eureka!”, and his own, incredibly loud heartbeat. Slowly, he looked back at all the eyes and saw the direction they were moving in. With a growing sense of dread, he tilted his head and looked down at himself for the first time in days…
And then he heard a voice scream the horrible thought that was running through his own mind,
“Hey Archimedes! Where the hell are your clothes, man?”
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