All posts tagged: A way into India


Slowly I have started smelling like fire. Ash comes over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of sole. Ice on head now seems a ritual. And fire a family. Is it because of this squirrels have started coming near. That bird in the morning quietness in the dark. Something will change. It is asking something and saying something unhearable. Hear hear. Close your eyes. Advertisements

Arrival of Maharaj

Threads of cotton. Some new event had to happen. A long day in motion. Paris. Not patparganj but Indirapuram came. Maharaj wore mehroon clothes and did not open his eyes till the time food arrived. But by the time food came he had started singing bhajans. It was an auspicious day. Mothers were waiting. They will only feed themselves in the night. After looking at the stars. Rain came. And I left home for many coming days.

The dip

Sometimes one dip changes your smile and temperature. It takes you then to places that can only be created in dreams through memories ofcourse. You walk long looking at forms, colours, patterns, walls, speculating age, sounds of children and cows, of burning dead trees and water ripples, hearing bodies visually and later language. Sometimes a small reaction changes the whole tail of events. Sometimes the start was the only end. But the dip is important. Because that is the door to nature. And nature is within.

It’s still 30th November. Only a few minutes away from December. Everything that is once thought becomes real. There is nothing more truer that that truth. It took few years, an almost ascending process that by the end none less than ejaculation with moans. It was hard work but it was fun. I am sitting in the big plane. I remember ma, she must be sleeping. At this time last night her blood pressure went too low, she could barely stand. I am flying out of my country for the first time. It should be special. Should it be special? Is it special! The process seems similar, of flying, of seeing people. Even though it took some time also because it couldn’t have been any other way. Currency’s exchanged. Dark chocolate bought. Immigration guy made a krow out of my surname that which I could only smirk at. I do not know if it’s exciting. Probably I will have to see it on the other side of sleep. Its been a long day. The big …

The Wedding Song

In her wedding dress that one day she stopped counting years   I met J uncle on a very cold january morning this year. It was raining and we stood outside an empty swimming pool. His room – 705, is just beneath my room – 805, where i am writing this. J uncle had his own quiet world till he met my sister. My sister, Ruspsi is a kathak dancer(banaras gharana). J uncle would not know about it for a month till one day they meet in the elevator, she moved and her ghungroo rolled from her bag. J uncle and his lovely wife had come from Banaras. In a quest to live with their son, they sold their house. They used to sing all morning there, he told me. He disliked it here. Everything. But he never spoke about it. He was just visibly sad. In his walk, thats how mostly i saw of him. A singer coming from a gharana who doesn’t sing anymore. In the meantime J uncle grew fond of my …