Memories

They

Remind you

of

Who, you were

and

you shall

never be whom

again!.

I plead guilty

Oxford dictionary defines ‘Guilty Conscience’ as ‘to feel that you have done something wrong’, I think it ought to have been ‘to feel that you have done something, which you think is wrong’. There is a huge gap between what is wrong, and what one thinks is wrong. Conscience for the most part is personal, and it only cares about what one thinks, and hence the guilt in one’s conscience too, is not much different.

It was a relaxed Saturday morning, and I was into my weekend routine of having a good oil massage for my hair, which usually is followed by me washing them. I have always enjoyed a relaxing bath. Once in a while I get to indulge myself with a good hot shower. I enjoy hot water soaking through me, it almost shuts my brain into a silence, silence of the good kind. Just as I was stepping out of a hot, albeit a brief shower, that’s precisely when the guilty conscience pricked me. Even though I make sure that, I haven’t spent more than 3 to 4 minutes in the shower, and I make sure that the water is not flowing at maximum pressure for a good 2 minutes of those 3 to 4 minutes, the idea of fresh water being wasted for a shower really plays on my mind for most of the day. There is no confusion over the fact that wasting water is absolutely wrong, it is really not so clear if my indulgence was indeed a waste. 

This is once such an instance where Guilty Conscience ruins something trivial and not so uncommon pleasures in my life.

It is not so uncommon to treat yourself with a bowl of ice cream once every few months, or is it?. Well, tell that to my Guilty Conscience. I must have probably enjoyed a bowl of ice cream for about 15 minutes, the guilt took more than three or four hours to take a backseat. The guilt here does not stem from deeper causes like world hunger, food deprived children or the world etc. If it was because of that, maybe I wouldn’t have this regret for my guilt. Instead it is from the amount of sugar that gets into my body, even though I strictly ration it during my other meals. Just the idea of this bout of sugar and fat getting to run through my arteries just ruins the satisfaction of my coveted bowl of ice cream.

I was not always like this. I was naturally carefree when it came to the simple pleasures of my life. So I wonder, what changed? When did I end up being this guilt ridden person?.

As the great poet DVG says in his below kagga

A path of well rationed sanctions is better than a path of a stubborn prohibition which forces us to kill our natural desires.

A nearly blind man

I close my eyes,

to a wonderful night of darkness,

Where unwanted sounds

refuse to be noise,

Short exhales

break those long deep breaths, 

Slowing standstill, a distant dream.

Give up caffeine, slowdown your heart, you say,

to my heart that snorts a line of anxious passion,

There I sit,

A nearly blind man,

with a pair of closed eyes,

staring into an open window,

into the darkness of night.

Contradictions

World called it midlife crisis, it sounded too cliched to be true.

He called it boredom, an allergy to the known,

The world, just smiled.

‘Novelty is overrated’, said, the wise ones,

‘Comfort of the known’, he dismissed.

World mutated wonderfully to offer him new opportunities,

Routines, are where he found his norm.

Unpredictability in this world scared him,

He hated the monotonies of this life.

Learning to Live

The seed did not fall far from the tree.

Nine months later when the new sprout first took a lungful cry, It was
greeted by the warmth of the pleasant shade from its parent.

A deep rooted strong tree, it appeared, giving the new shoot an ideal to
follow.

With every growing year, he turned a blind eye to the rotting side of the
depleting force, and the brights of the beaming green was much too powerful, or
may be it was the shades of the youth that eclipsed eyes of the adolescent one.

The young adult now clearly feeding on its parent roots, blossoming into a
aping trunk.

It was it’s turn to seed and now they were a bunch.

The once strong parent living its life and the younger bunch loving it.

A day came when out of the blue the parent fell, catching the bunch off
guard. The grand tree had lived it’s sudden death

The bunch lived.

An old partner stood where the former had once ruled. The frailty of the
surviving partner apparent to the loved one.

Every day the loved one saw what it had not seen for years, the warmth of
the shades that it had once taken for granted threatening to completely vanish.

Every day the loved one, lived in fear of the loss, the one that was lost,
and the one which will not last.

Yet there was it’s own younger self, feeding of it’s root now. Living the
same life as it had once lived. Loved one’s rotting self, completely invisible
to its younger shoot.

The dual life of strong and week, the fear and the strength, the inner child
and the real one, the seeker and the giver.

Yet, the tree learns to live, it lives.

 

Silent Weekends

Most of us are living now in a constant fear. Something which was frightening around this time last year, has become monstrous now. Take a stroll through any media, and you will be scarred for life. The amount of negativity, sufferings, and death around all of us around the world, and especially in India during this second wave of this pandemic has left us angry, scared, disgusted, and mostly helpless.

I hate being helpless. I know ‘hate’ is a strong word, but I have no less feeling towards this helplessness of mankind, where we cannot even help our dying friends and family. I feel so sad for feeling selfish enough about me and my family, which is preventing me from even helping out even my immediate family, when they are in need of help. Just look around you, so many people literally gasping for a bit of air to survive, and our hands are so tied behind our backs in fear that we cannot even offer the comfort of our company to our dying loved ones.

Amongst all this negativity, there is one thing which I am extremely grateful to almighty for. Every Monday morning, when I sit in front of my laptop and put my headphones on. I feel transported to this amazing alternate world, where I am in total control. A place where, when people around me bombard me with issues, I have a solution to most of them. When I don’t have a solution, I still know how to find one. I can clearly see where I am stepping into. I dont need masks to cover my breath. The work that keeps me busy from morning till evening is warding off all my attention away from this bad situation which is killing the whole country. 

I have been feeling guilty for my escapism. I seem to be feeling like an escapist in every aspect of my current life.

There has been no form of entertainment which has helped me take my mind off what’s happening to people in my country right now. My work is the only thing which has given me solace.

Monday to Friday, I look forward to drowning in a known world of my work life, silence weekends are deafening though.

Magical Mirror

Young I was,

As I looked into the mirror,

Seeing things that I saw,

Things that were,

And a few, which ought to have been,

Some that shouldn’t have been,

A few convenient voids,

Some I was looking for,

Some that showed up,

Strange corners well lit, at times,

Striking features blurred occasionally.

The mirror has aged,

Lasted for more than I imagined,

People have walked in and out,

Adding themselves into my sight.

My loyalties to you may have strayed,

As you lay here in dust,

Still doing your job,

Giving me the best of my dirt,

A chance to wipe them clean,

A chance to regret and remorse,

And of course, watch my glee too.

A friend that you have been,

Leading me to several souls,

Some mates have lasted,

And some buried in sand.

Thank you, would mean nothing to you,

Or so it seems,

Virtual that you are,

A Ramblings galore.

*****************************************************************************************************

I complete 15 years of blogging today. I cannot believe Virtual Ramblings has lasted 15 years. Thank you to all you kindred souls out there, you have made me who I am today.

I did my first post on March 23rd 2006 here.

Memorabilia

Switching channels constantly and not stopping at one, is probably the most widely popular pastime for bored people. I am no stranger to that. As I was switching channels today, I came across a song picturized on a huge star of yesteryears, from his last movie before he passed away recently, I have never been a fan of him or his brand of movies, but just the sight of him made me watch the entire song, a horrible tune and lyrics full of cliché, yet my eyes were glued to a visibly old and immobile star in his last movie. It is funny how the mind associated him to this era of my past, when he was a star, when his movies were hugely popular, when he was young and famous. It was not him I was seeing on screen, but the idea of me from that era, people who were around, things which interested me back then, life I had, Bangalore that was, my world in which I lived, ah what a bliss of nostalgia the song gave me. My eyes were glued to this star on screen, feasting on moving talking memorabilia from my past.

“Hello’ was all he said, as he answered my phone. Growing up is not easy, when you are an only child. Only another single child can understand the feeling of missing out on the camaraderie which comes naturally to siblings. Fortunately I had loads and loads of cousins, who were around during holidays and vacations, family gatherings and functions. I can remember so many occasions spent with a level of happiness which no amount of money, fame, travel or any other delight from today can bring back. We were a close pack for a long period of time, even when elders in that group got married and moved on, or found jobs and became busy, still we kept meeting each other, having fun at each other’s homes. I never realized when it all slowed down, when it became so few and far, and we all got lost in our own lives. All of us now have kids of our own, again many of us have a single child at home who is going through the very same pain as we did as kids. Hearing my cousin today made me hear all the words and stories from those days when our house buzzed with us cousins, our songs, our plays, our fights. Memorabilia of sounds that I cherish.

Blame it on global warming, or just time, weather has changed. We got untimely rain today. Rain in February was never heard of, and yet it happened yesterday and today. As I woke up after a customary weekend nap in the afternoon, my nose immediately got the whiff of the rain. My nose took me to our balcony to a smell of wet mud, a familiar smell of wet mud from my childhood. Bangalore in early 90s was nothing similar to current Bangalore. I remember a year when it rained 3 days straight, and so heavily that we were literally struck at home, with no power and supplies. It has been a few years, since it has rained for more than an hour. In 90s Bangalore, June to August saw rains every day, it used to be my favourite season. Our school year began in June, and so did the rainy season. As I walked back from school, I used to be was greeted with heavy clouds almost every single day, the smell of rain on the plants, trees and grass gave a fertile odour, a smell that I love till date. If nature were to be a perfume, it would be this. I woke up to these familiar smell from my past, and right into my school days. What would I pay to capture this memorabilia into a spray bottle.

Recently I chanced upon a shop selling a fudge of sorts, something which used to be very popular in late 80s and early 90s. The shop even had the same packaging as it used to be sold in those days. A fudge[halkova] wrapped in butter paper, cuboid shaped, sold in all small shops around schools. ah those days of spending .25Rs to get two full fudges. I could not resist but buy a whole box of fudge from that shop. It has been more than 25 years since I last ate those fudge, as I unwrapped the butter paper and put the delicate piece in my mouth, the taste transformed me into so many memories from my past. There is something about elementary school, the years before the high school which we tend to remember more. The childish curiosity in the world, in people, in friendships, learning/seeing so many firsts. Tasty memorabilia is all I needed to liven up my palette.

My oldest memories about my father is how he had a big hole in one of his earlobes, something which was due to an infection from an ear piercing. As a kid it fascinated me, how could a person have a hole in his skin. and that I could see through. Whenever he carried me, I would keep touching his earlobes, ask him many questions about it, keep asking him if it pains, and if it is possible for me to get such a hole when I grow up to be his age. It just became a habit for the 5/6 year old me to keep touching his earlobe. Many many years later, the memory of how I used to hold his ears has stayed with me. My son was goofing around with me today, and jokingly he held onto my earlobes. The touch, though brief brought back so many memories from my early childhood. A single touch is all it took.

We collect tangible souvenirs, and material memorabilia. Our senses preserve many more.

Being Insecure.

I was intrigued by this dialogue in one of the movies that I was watching, “If you were to describe all men with one statement what would that be?” Asks a man. “They all are insecure” answers his wife. I don’t know if the ‘man’ in question was meant to mean people irrespective of gender, I don’t know if it is true with women too, however I think It is true, many men are insecure. I have been insecure most of my life.

Will my hair last till I am 25?

Will I look old in my own wedding?

Will I have enough money when I am about to retire so that I don’t have to depend on anyone?.

Will I have my job for as long as I want to work?.

Will my son grow up to be independent and self sufficient?.

Will I be healthy till I die?.

Will my house last my lifetime?.

Am I satisfying my wife?.

Does she really love me with all her heart?.

Will I be able to eat what I want for the rest of my life?.

Will I be able to afford my healthcare if and when I need it?.

Will my son take care of me?.

I just had to think for a minute, and I could list so many of my insecurities. For as long as I can remember, I have been insecure. 

Are we insecure because we are not confident?, I am not so sure. I have been very confident in many of these aspects, but still it does not drive the insecurity away.

How do we fight insecurity? 

Be more practical?  Be more ignorant?, 

Work harder? Take it light? 

Step back look at the big picture? Zoom in and take a closer look? 

Be philosophical? Be nonchalant? 

Listen to your heart? Listen to what the world has to say? 

We don’t see a definite plan of action, do we?

Men from different classes of life, different educational backgrounds, social backgrounds, religion, country and race seem to have one thing in common. 

Insecurities.

Delights

Extreme happiness gives us joy, extreme pleasure gives us delight. 

I chanced upon a podcast about delight, amidst other things it gave a brief introduction to “The book of delights” by Ross Gay. The book is a collection of essays on things which have given the author a sense of delight in his daily life. Before I read that book and get influenced by it, I thought, I should make a list of things which give me delight. I thought this could be a good exercise to cheer myself up. These days any source of a cheer is welcome, considering how depressed I feel most of the times.

Procreation is something which comes natural to living beings. I guess it is nature’s way of keeping itself alive. Procreation is also a game of patience. It literally takes months to see the result. Germinating seeds in my garden has given me immense happiness. Harvesting the seeds from some of my own plants, or our daily dose of veggies from our kitchen, sowing and tending to their whims and fancies, waiting what seems take an eternity, all these hardships are easily forgotten when you see those first hints of green, you know the best is going to follow. These little seedlings always have given me a sense of accomplishment, pure delight.

Children have this amazing ability to lighten the mood for everyone around them. My son can be very annoying at times, take my patience to its limit, give me chores that last well into the night. When he gets his innocent laughter going, there is nothing more delightful to the loving father in me. I find his laughter a reminder of those simple times in my life where life was good and with no conditions. The nonchalance with which he accepts happiness in his life and expresses the same in his laughter amazes me. I have tried to capture those moments on camera, in voice recordings, but in vain. They are meant just for living. My treasured delight.

I love travelling, I really love my vacations. Usually it gives me immense pleasure in planning my vacation. More than places to visit, elaborate planning goes into choosing places to eat on our vacations. I enjoy all types of vacation, solo ones, ones with my immediate family, and the ones with my extended families too. But there is one ritual in these vacations that I look forward to. This one has given me a sense of calmness and delight, which is the ideal combination. My vacation days begin with me waking up to a lazy morning filled with leisure, and me curling up on the balcony with my cup of hot coffee. The smell of fresh coffee adds a magic to these mornings spent lazing around in those unknown balconies. A delightful experience that I look forward to.

I am one of those people who take a long time to warm up to a conversation. It is not easy for me to have a casual talk. I am not so good with alcohol either,  I do enjoy a drink or two but I don’t play a typical drunk, and in fact I am much more sophisticated in my choice of coffee than alcohol. This doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good drink session. You need the right kind of people, and the topics just build up. A right drink acts like a perfect lubricant to get me talking. There are certain days when everything is just perfect, it just leaves you wanting more and more of it. The people who share my heart form a big part of these conversations.They may not be the ones who necessarily agree with me, but they are three ones who have their hearts in the right place. They are the ones who can keep me interested in topics which we are passionate about. A drink and a conversation, a bitter sweet delight.

There are beach people and there are us the mountain ones. I love mountains. There is something about how they stand firm with and against winds for years and years without a break. The idea of staying in the mountains has always been a big part behind my vacation plans. I have been fortunate to visit the Himalayas a number of times, and seen the various shades of this beauty. The mountain life is definitely not easy on people there, but still they have an infectious smile on their faces. There is definitely something in the mountain air which gives a spring in your steps, making us stand up to anything that life throws our way. Every stay of mine in the Himalayas has been memorable, and I wish to keep going there more often. The morning chill and the fresh air of these mountains are a delightful delight.

I have always admitted the fact that I am impatient. I expect things to fall into place quickly. I don’t give enough time for people to learn, discover, and implement things in their own way. However, there is one quality of mine which I think kind of makes up a bit for my impatience, that is perseverance. When it comes to problem solving, I have a decent amount of perseverance which helps me many times to solve complex issues both at work and in life. The feeling that you get, when you have cracked a difficult problem is worth all the hard work. To me that is much more than satisfying, it gives me a pleasureful delight. A friend of mine had remarked that I was one of the few people she knows who is genuinely in love with their work. I guess she is right about me, my role as a problem solver has given me many days of delight.

They say that people should never live in their past, I disagree. Living in my past has helped me to get through many difficult times. Lovely evenings are more tolerable with a memory or two with our loved ones. There is something about  reminiscing that helps us extend a past delight into our present. The time is definitely not even, but it is linear. Times that are well spent may never come back, however their memories can do. Reliving my delightful times, my time with all bits and pieces across the world, across the people, across time always makes for a delightful evening. 

I look forward to more of these, and many more new ones.