A house by the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast expanse of a bright clear blue ocean, a stretch of lushy green grass in the front porch, a hammock between two banyan trees, a cuckoo making its presence felt intermittently, a great wife and at least five great children - if I can make this happen, then maybe, just maybe, I might one day be able to look up to my father eye to eye and tell him that finally I have done something worthwhile, that I have not just earned more money than him by doing half his work with half his ingenuity.
Mornings would be spent flirting casually with the fragrance of nearby tulip gardens, jogging with Sushmita Sen and then I would saunter in to the tennis court next door to 'play' a game with Rafa on clay. And beat him.
Since it would sap me of all my energy, a refereshing cup of freshly brewed Darjeeling tea would be next on the cards with Khaled Hosseini listening to how he can magically weave a story with so much emotion, so much intensity without actually having lived through any of it.
Back home an hour later, would spend time with my family, Kishore and Lata being played on the background, kids asking a hundred myriad questions and I sometimes glancing at the laptop in front advising different heads of state on how to run their governments and some fortune 10 companies on how to effectively market their products!
A short nap post lunch and the afternoon session would be spent playing Michael Holding and Dennis Lillee on a grassy Sabina-ish wicket and then bowling gentle outswingers to Vivian. Thereafter, a post match session with Sunny on how to play the straight-drive really straight and with Abdul on how to bowl the googly.
The evening would start with attending a live rendition by Abida Parveen followed by a jugalbandi by Amjad Ali and Zakir Hussain. Over coffee, I would discuss with Yash Chopra how he has lost his mind and how he epitomizes a case in point where excellence leads to utter mediocrity and finally to unfortunate oblivion.
Dinner would be a chicken barbeque on the grass beneath the open star-studded glittering night with sparkling special effects by the fireflies with Harry Belafonte and Pete Segger humming along.
Post dinner, we would lie down on the hammock and gaze away at the brilliance that the universe has to offer and be assured in the tranquil thought of our incredible insignificance in the scheme of things which we have no idea about, drenched in the satisfaction that possibly through love we might have transcended some of the barriers and compelled life to let us into some of its most treasured secrets.
Amen.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The Price of Success
Its a beautiful world with beautiful people or so they say. Except that I find neither. I think one actually leads to another. Being an engineer I am trained to think methodically and find out patterns where none exists. So my funda is if the latter were to be true in one's life, the former is a foregone conclusion.
Of course, by beauty I do not definitely imply physical beauty. Which sometimes makes me wonder - exactly how many other kinds of beauty are there. And to compound this, there is the inevitability of subjectivity about beauty. And as always, even though I do not seek beauties, I have not been able to remotely come in contact with anyone who would fill my idea of the same. Neither figuratively nor metaphorically. Which begets the question "Am I normal?" or is it that I don't have my specs on or am I looking at the wrong direction altogether. For once, I hope God exists, so that at least I can say "God knows!"
Every evening when I am back from office and I turn the key to my temporary abode, I am greeted with a wonderful sight of a huge empty house, with some useless machines like a television, a laptop, a broadband modem staring at my face in jest saying out aloud "Hah ! Got you again. 27 years and you still have ONLY us to fall back upon."To which I reply with my usual casual nonchalance "Every damn f***ing dog has his day and am waiting for mine!"
The situation is the same every morning. I wake up to that same huge house and the first thing that strikes me is "Isn't it too early to wake up?" or "Why the hell cannot I sleep for 24 hours?".
I have to make breakfast AND have it with the tables and chairs and newspaper to give me company. THEY are such amazing company - I tell you. The very basis of my existence is to have breakfast,evening snacks and dinner with them. In case you are wondering about lunch - for that I grace the tables and chairs of my office along with some other colleagues of mine who do not have such a complete life as mine but are sinfully married! And you can prove it from their totally satisfied expressions post lunch having gulped down everything their dear wives had packed for them early morning. (Alas, they do not have the privilege of such an exciting breakfast as I have!)
The government, opposition, marginals, challengers, secularists, communalists - nearly everyone would have me believe that I being a Brahmin belong to the privileged lot. Ignorant idiots ! They can only guess at the privileges that I enjoy every day of my life. Oh, by the way, in this limited life that I have lived so far, they tell me that I am successful as well.
Yeah, sure. Of course. Great success - tables, chairs, laptops, mobiles, television, music system.
Here is to success. And privileges. And lousy boring marriage.
Of course, by beauty I do not definitely imply physical beauty. Which sometimes makes me wonder - exactly how many other kinds of beauty are there. And to compound this, there is the inevitability of subjectivity about beauty. And as always, even though I do not seek beauties, I have not been able to remotely come in contact with anyone who would fill my idea of the same. Neither figuratively nor metaphorically. Which begets the question "Am I normal?" or is it that I don't have my specs on or am I looking at the wrong direction altogether. For once, I hope God exists, so that at least I can say "God knows!"
Every evening when I am back from office and I turn the key to my temporary abode, I am greeted with a wonderful sight of a huge empty house, with some useless machines like a television, a laptop, a broadband modem staring at my face in jest saying out aloud "Hah ! Got you again. 27 years and you still have ONLY us to fall back upon."To which I reply with my usual casual nonchalance "Every damn f***ing dog has his day and am waiting for mine!"
The situation is the same every morning. I wake up to that same huge house and the first thing that strikes me is "Isn't it too early to wake up?" or "Why the hell cannot I sleep for 24 hours?".
I have to make breakfast AND have it with the tables and chairs and newspaper to give me company. THEY are such amazing company - I tell you. The very basis of my existence is to have breakfast,evening snacks and dinner with them. In case you are wondering about lunch - for that I grace the tables and chairs of my office along with some other colleagues of mine who do not have such a complete life as mine but are sinfully married! And you can prove it from their totally satisfied expressions post lunch having gulped down everything their dear wives had packed for them early morning. (Alas, they do not have the privilege of such an exciting breakfast as I have!)
The government, opposition, marginals, challengers, secularists, communalists - nearly everyone would have me believe that I being a Brahmin belong to the privileged lot. Ignorant idiots ! They can only guess at the privileges that I enjoy every day of my life. Oh, by the way, in this limited life that I have lived so far, they tell me that I am successful as well.
Yeah, sure. Of course. Great success - tables, chairs, laptops, mobiles, television, music system.
Here is to success. And privileges. And lousy boring marriage.
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