Sunday, February 18

To laughter & happiness

Yesterday, I reread "Hot Water" by P G Woodehouse...and I was honestly rolling over. Its one of my favourites.

And I have decided,I am going to buy the whole PG Woodehouse collection, if it makes me so happy. His humor is so subtle, the play of words so tenuous, the moment of laughter so fragile, that one can miss it and never laugh.

Almost lifelike.

The moments of truth are so few and far in between that chances are if one misses the happy moments one would not be happy.

We are all taught to be perfect, morally upright, and most of our actions and pursuits are in the same direction. It only makes us more perfect, and yes more morally upright.

Well... nothing wrong with that as following formats in life are more difficult than not following them. But, perfection is not happiness. Perfection is about efficiency... Happiness is something tenuous, amorphous, neither heaven nor hell, but what lies in between, amoeba like shapeless formless entity.

like a PG Woodehouse novel....

Or Chintu Sahay, my pet fish.... searching for food the whole day.

I have never written about Chintu Sahay before. I bought Chintu Sahay & Mannu Sahay at a suburban aquarium shop.

They made home in a bland fishbowl in my orange green living room. Chintu Sahay is black, Mannu Sahay was orange in color.

They fought for food the whole day and then Chintu would chase Mannu holding it by its tail. It was interesting to watch Mannu, the quieter of the two, fight for his space and share of food with this aggressive partner.

And then one day he died.lived his life.

Now its just Chintu Sahay floating tirelessly in a watery slippery fishbowl.

This one's a survivor, he understands the dynamics of fishbowl well... comes to the surface when fed, takes to the plastic punishment well during weekend water change. I have a feeling it responds to music too.

I sit there and watch it, swimming in circular motion, rhythm of life. Chintu Sahay makes me happy. Also imparts a sense of responsibility. I like to fuss over Chintu, remember to feed it every morning and make it a point to sit around and watch it in the evening.

Some tips on fish behavior.

1. They gnaw at your finger tips only & only for food. ( do not mistake it for affection.)
2. They respond to colors.
3. They look for food the whole day.
4. They, like us, hate change. especially water change.
5. They eat boring food. pink & green things. doesn't look appealing at all.

Do they love? Or when loved do they love back?

Can't say.

Read this guy's interview, don't remember his name, he takes a subject called psychology 1400 ( or was it 1600?) at Harvard. He is said to be pulling more crowd that Churchill & Roosevelt could.

See, that's the thing about happiness, everyone seeks it, nobody knows how to fetch it?

What this guy says is that hordes of us don't know that we have it too. Some of the points he makes are arguably thought provoking.About finding meaning in ourselves, enjoying a vocation for its own sake, understanding the perils of wealth accumulation, seeking inner balance etc.But what keeps me intrigued as an HR professional is not as much the panacea as the burgeoning attendance in the class.

Why would blokes from Harvard, undoubtedly the brighter of the lot, follow the pied piper from hamelin?

Brings us back to the point, best is just that, the best, not the happiest.

Fulfillment, as they say, is generally abstract and mostly within.

Friday, February 9

a poem

phir aaj ek naye havan mein jalna hoga
Dilon ke beechee bisate, baazi wafa kee,
phir kisi pyade ko marna hoga
band khidkee,band darwaje,
jhoka baarish ka aye to kahan se?
aaj phir tang surakhon se risna hoga.
chalti rahe raftaar zindagi kee
un armano ko pahiyo tale kuchalna hoga.
woh ruka to hoga ekbaar jaroor jane se pehle
parchaee ka ehsaas aaj bhee hota hein,
aab umr bhar inke saath hee chalna hoga.

Friday, February 2

The Wait

I have surprised myself this time. This is my 2nd post within 2 days.

Is it being 30? Is it catharsis? Doesn't matter...

I had an interesting thought today, writing a story or a poem must be like having a child.

The moment its out, you rush to count if it has all ten fingers & toes.

The wait

The Universe between us
stands unlived…
an angrily read book
groans in pain
At a distance
A black fish
searches for food
And a lost mate
In a watery slippery fishbowl

Two stumbled souls
Thrown off from
Unkempt mornings
Arrogant evenings
Met in a fishbowl
Swam & Search
Search & Swam
Dreamt to
Swim in a sea
Away from the bowl

Much later
They would
When their gills
Would be strong
To break the glass
And when, they can
Take the journey
Also before
They grow old

Not far off from
The fishbowl
Sat two planets.
They were changing orbits
For another cosmic dance
Apologetic, Scared
Also Lost.

Thursday, February 1


Last night I was drained.

Fatigue. Stress. And the weight of going through a tomorrow in the next few hours.

It was one of those rare nights when I did want to sleep early.

I was woken up at aound 1:00 p.m. by a friend who is known for his rather profund ways. Fate had it, he was heading home after the last of the pubs was shutting down when he saw a couple fighting on the raod.

Usual stuff. You - didnt- do - this - for- me. and I -am -the -only-one-making-efforts-in-this.

He called me up to tell me how painful it was to see them not making it.

And how unhappy he was with his own life. And how meaningless was his own success. And how there was no fun in drinking.

Well... I said.

And then he said something that kept me awake for the rest of my night. ( Thanks so much!)

Love is something that a million people hanker for but only, only, a chosen few get!!!

Goddamn....that sounds so painful.