The Chaos Theory.

Have you ever heard of the chaos theory?
It is a science.
It tries to determine underlying patterns in chaotic systems. Weather, Ocean Currents, that sort of things. Well, it turns out that there are few things more chaotic than the beat of a human heart. Speeding up, Slowing down. A pretty face, A flight of stairs.
It's always changing depending on what's happening.It's an erratic son of a b***h. But underneath all that bump-a-ta-bump mess, there is, in fact, a pattern.


A Truth.


And it is love.


The most important thing about love is that we choose to give it.....And we choose to recieve it.
Making it the least random act in the entire universe.
It transcends blood, and it transcends betrayal.
And all the dirt that makes us human.


This year-end, Figure That out.


P.S: my VLC media player has a red cap on its icon(with a fluff of cotton at the end), Though I still have no idea how on earth that happens every year. And I am wearing woollens. So yes, All Is Well.

Hum toh Aise Hain Bhaiyya -6

Remember this?

"Centuries after we decided we were one nation, we still have that to prove.Somehow the fact that the Indian state transcends regional identities has been an idea too difficult for our masses to fathom.And therein lies the problem. A problem so vast and so maddeningly complex, elucidating it feels completely and wholly out of my reach. I can only feel it. And bleed for it."

This mad, mad greed for separate states goes beyond any kind of logic. What goes even beyond that is normally sane, educated and liberated individuals abandoning all sense to give drive such demands.The Centre, removed from this mob-frenzy might have displayed some judgement, but I suppose it's just difficult to disregard all the lobbying that must necessarily have been present.And I also suppose that stating that the Centre should just pack off KCR into nowhere would be too naive. :) But seriously, I thought survival was something every Tom thought off before walking out on his parents.

Clearly, sometimes, some Toms are just too distraught. And desperate.

Birth Pangs

I live in a crowded, ever-shifting locality, and though it had never been a cause of concern for me before, for the past few years I find that I've tired if it. As much as I love food, I'm tired of the new, newer newest restaurants that keep opening up. I'm tired of the new buildings that forever keep rising.And I feel angry every time that I look up skywards to see only smog and none of the stars that I've spent a childhood trying to count. Environment is something I'm truly concerned about, especially since last year when I experienced the warmest winter of my life. But I digress.

Sometimes, there's only so much of change that's good and as a blogger whom I read put it, "Change is often over-rated, and the known and comfortable past too under-rated and vilified."
Increasingly, there's a feeling that I tire of change itself. Not change as in newer experiences into which I gladly and a tad foolishly still jump into, but change as in a continuous movement.

But more than anything, I'm tired of a changing mind. Things that I hated earlier, I turn to again only to find that I like it after all. Perhaps you would remember this post where I wrote about my reaction to The God Of Small Things. The heavy pessimism still weighed down on me, but surprisingly I could just glimpse the beauty beneath the terrible reality. Sample this:
"When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less." . But what's painful is when you look at things that you loved and find that you don't like it after all. That hurts. Maybe this book was about having the maturity to have understood it. Maybe before growing up, life is about growing out of  the birth-pangs.

Nothing Crushes Us.

Dear Leslie,

It's spring again and more beautiful than ever. More beautiful than it had ever been in twenty years. More beautiful than anyplace I've seen in twenty years. Last night I saw the moon fairy again. She shone down our tree-top home, a moon-beam double bright. And I longed to speak to the squirrels again, but it was night and they were asleep. In the quiet I heard the stream gurgling, over the stones and festered lilies.

I've been love-sick and torn. My wounds unfaded, fresh and raw. Early morning today I saw again.You in your corduroys and converses, refusing to grow up and telling me stories. Of kingdoms whose kings were cowards.And new lands discovered. Monsters fought and defeated.Gentle giants won with love. I felt again. Your warm breath as you outran me to our lair.

Today afternoon, years later, I played again. Hide and seek with the brambles.And the bluebirds that return only after winter fades. It was the same bluebird, I think.

Its strange that Today, when I ran back twenty years, I felt only the fluttering in my heart as I looked, once more, at a Queen's land.  I would never exchange that brief summer in an enchanted land for all the sparkling diamonds in the world. I wouldn't trade for all the magic in the world.

But I wouldn't trade the pain too. The pain and the senselessness.

This Twilight, as I sat nested beneath our tree and you beside me, I saw you speaking to the golden squirrel.

You smiled.

You hadn't ever left him.

And then, as the purple faded from the sky, I fashioned myself a crown again. A few wings. Light enough to fly me to another universe.

The king will return from exile.

Ready his palace.

Love,
Jesse.

A Calcutta Bus.

I'm in love with Calcutta Buses.

"That's smart" my alter-ego argues.
"Smart?"
"Yeh. Smart to like something that in any case you are condemned to. Like the subjects you research on.""Or a hurricane-destroyed home."
"Whatever."

So there's this thing about buses, you get a lot of insight into people. Mostly it centers around how principled some are of not patronising deodorants.Though sometimes you might also get a glimpse of an intense belief that Dada is just about to return to cricket. But even beyond that, if you care to look hard enough, travelling in buses is also about sensing just that faint betrayal of wanting more. More than having to travel miles and miles in crowds with place barely enough to stand.

Today, returning home late from Salt Lake, I was stuck in jam at the Bypass.Usual journeys from Salt Lake smooth enough. But then, this was an unusual one. So, stuck beside the Hyatt Regency,I chanced to look up from my cell. There was a dinner in full swing at its lawns. And staring at the splendour, an entire bus of people.

Sometimes, just very, very rarely, Dreams find a way out of hearts and into the chilly air.

This was written yesterday, 11:45pm and left unpublished because blogger decided to play truant.