Anaahat

Is it necessary that you have something to say when you write? Can you write just utter nonsense - catching the words in your fingers as they erupt in your mind? Just like that. Leaving the critique on your shoulder. Locked in the bathroom. Locked away. With ear phones in your ears to block out all the noise. So that all you hear is your own. Not the audible one. But the one which sees, hears and notes down things in everyday life to re-visit once you want to say something. Say something. Anything. Don’t look at the white of the screen or of the paper. Just let your fingers run with a life of their own. Let them be the only cord connecting your heart with words. Say everything. What you didn’t want to say. What you never will say. What you will work on, to get rid of. Say everything. All those days of pain. All those days of laughter. And the momentary life of all those things. Say how stupid you have been. Say how you will work on that longing, until it washes away. Until o...

It’s silent, their love. with endless possibilities, hidden in stolen glances, blood-rushes, on tinted cheeks, frozen hands, to freeze time. It’s a river, their life. changing, flowing, gurgling with joy, attaining depths, rushing on shallow lands, heading to a destination, by etching  its own course, with frozen hands, to freeze time.

where does it come from the hope that moves you the optimism to see life so merrily, so tirelessly, without any weight on your soul. the feelings and hopes and the loves that you carry around. like a wounded soldier ready to breathe life in a dead country's soul. where in your soul, does it persist, to exist, the happiness, the peace, the quest for a forever, for what you dream in your mind's eye, hoping you will, someday, be there. where is it that you head in this manner, my wounded soldier, carrying those burdens of feelings, of hopes, in the quest of love alone.

Is it the intimacy, the dependence, the duality of existence, the doubling of things. Is it the fear of not finding the unconditional love preached by the damn fairy tales or the fear of being loved, for love alone. Whats wrong? They (damn them) say, the grayed uncles and the wrinkled grandmothers, This is no way to be, to be sol, alone, solitary. What will life be, when the youth will be gone, the independence will be physically taken away, And one fine day, You will be lying on the floor, with a broken backbone and nobody to clean the mess, the rotting of life. Whats wrong in living in fairy tales that have acquired new definitions, when there is no need to ‘settle down’ and settle for whats available just for a reason to live another day, for another life, to fight the fear of being alone. without the quest of a ‘forever’.

Two years ago on this day, ban on smoking indoors was imposed by the Maharashtra government. Then, there was a huge uproar about this, views were expressed in favour and against. Smokers were angry and non-smokers were triumphant. Today, life has returned to normal. It seems normal to expect clear air in a nightclub, to expect smokers standing in the office corridors bonding over a smoke and coffee, to expect separate smokers rooms, etc. Here is an fictionalised story of an opinionated gentleman writing on what transpired on 2nd October 2008. *** To Smoke or Not to Smoke   Ramanikbhai logs on to his blog. He bangs the keys, patriotism oozing from every pore of his body. The keys taking life of their own and speaking Ramnikbhai’s mind. He writes about how this country for which the great Mahatma fought for has gone to the dogs, he writes about the hindu-muslim divide, he writes about the westernization of the India culture, about short skirts and cigarettes, he writes about alco...

I wake up every day battling with the idea of God and what he made us to be. With all the philosophy of “Objectivisim” and “Randian” (am sorry if anyone finds this offensive); I am battling my idea of God. This God doesn’t come and go within me. He just doesn’t raise his head in the Temples or in the small ‘puja ghar’ in my house. He is there within me. He is an inseparable part of me. The one constantly observing and disseminating things in front of me. He is that someone who always gives me company. He doesn’t dessert me, as he is there at my request, at my need. And he answers all my calls. So, I conclude, God is someone who lifts the darkness of loneliness in Man. The quest is always to evade this loneliness felt deep within. The loneliness which raises its head in the dark of the night, when the world seems to sleep, the owls awaken and the sound magnifies. Doesn’t matter if you are bound by the social institutions to keep you caged. Doesn’t matter if you choose the path of your...

Terror has struck again. Again the lives of millions are affected; hatred spread and images that will continue to haunt our memories. Melodramatic news channels report fictionalised news to attract more viewers, without considering the impact their melodrama will have on the person with no connection to the outside world except the television. They are doing what they do best: minding the business of people's lives. Inappropriate, insensitive. This is the ‘n’th time that I see these images. That I sit holed up in my house when others decide my fate. I am not one of the hostages stuck in the hotels. But I am the hostage of terror. I locked my door twice yesterday, got up to check the locks on the middle of the night, and prayed to my God that everything will be fine in the end. Then, as a citizen I witness the power game and the politics of people running my country: I hear undue remarks on religion. And even if I don’t believe in making religion the reaso (because I believe tha...

Obama looks calm and composed as he sits to be sworn in. The quotes of coloured skin, the fight of millions for equality has finally opened the eyes of the nation to the character underneath the dark skin. He sits like a common man, he speaks in an honest and genuine voice. He even faltered a little while taking the oath: like a common man. And corrected himself. It was a reaffirmation of the journey where the common man reached. And his voice reaches millions. It was a moment similar to the one when our parents' parents must have watched 'when the clock struck midnight' speech by Nehru, a moment when a leader reaffirms his and his land's place in the world. A moment when history takes a turn. I don't care as much for how he performs. For we all know that he has taken charge of the country which already has one and a half foot in the grave. How much of it he can save and how much 'change' he can bring is not difficult for anyone to imagine. Yet, it was a tri...

Idle mind in search of answers, Idle mind with the time to ponder and wonder Idle mind to capture time Idle mind to keep it still. And the new red hues. What do you think of the new red hues? I think it adds some life, colour to the black and white world of Disquiet. It adds a fiery sense to the world of words. This mind, though is not idle. There are unsaved conversations about ethics, democracy, frauds, changing light bulbs, relationships and a few swears at the rickshawwallas and taxiwallas. Slowly these random conversations are taking shape of a single opinion. A single opinion on life, on God, on things beyond our control. Like money, fame, satisfaction, contentment. Perhaps the mind is maturing, with many summers to grey a few hair on the scalp, to keep a wrinkle permanent near the eyes. As if with every year that you pass, you travel away from this earth which gave birth to you, you travel up towards the sky and slowly as you gain objectivity. The different and diverse pieces of...

After the events of the 3 terrorising days, a sheet of anxiety hung in the air. Not like being in a war; in a war you know the enemy is, he is identifiable. Here he was faceless. Someone standing next to me? “Let us start something. A non-cooperation movement. Something to show we are not taking this lying down. Something that can tell the leaders and politicians that we want our safety. A nameless, leaderless movement. Lets show them how many we are and how angry and tired and frustrated we are. Let us all come togehter at the gateway of india - on Wednesday, Dec 3 rd @ 6pm. Please spread the word if you agree it's time we send a message too!” This message blinked on various cell phones, emails, networking groups in the days that followed. Quite rightly catching on the general mood: anger, the feeling to do something, to voice out confused voices, somewhere. And, hoping someone hears them: politicians, terrorists or perhaps “we – the people”. I was ticked too and...

Talking the local language should be a marketing strategy to reach a wider audience. Rather the major strategy is to reach the high-class-educated-English-speaking-and-reading audience. And most of the shops have names in English. With foreign brands making it big and making big money, the local language is in the recesses of our consciousness. Honestly, it is rather weird to have foreign names in Marathi. That said it is no excuse for demeaning the Marathi manoos, as many of Marathi-lovers would say. The Marathi manoos is, after all, the all prevailing part of the cosmopolitan city of Amchi Mumbai. I too am Marathi and I am proud of my language, my culture, my Gods and my land. I am also proud of being a part of the biggest democracy in the world where I can exercise my rights – to freedom of speech, freedom of talking in a language I choose to, of existence, of earning a livelihood, of living where I fancy. Being a Marathi, I happy when my friends from other states speak some words i...

I know a cool lady working in an air-conditioned office taking home a fat pay: Harini. She is 28 years old with a 4-year-old child. Her husband is very supportive. He brings in groceries, takes care of their child when this cool-lady-working-in-an-air-conditioned-office-taking-home-a-fat-pay comes home late. He even feeds the child and puts him to sleep. Talk about modern-day-women’s-liberation. There is another cooler lady, Swati. She is 40-years-old and is a Managing Director of a big company. She has two grown up daughters who fend for themselves. When she had daughters she took time off work and devoted 5 years for them. After all a mother has a very important role to play. And she found a mid-way to satiate her want of a career and also to give time to her children in the important years of their life. Again, talk about modern-day-women’s-liberation. We women feel good when we hear of such motivating stories of modern day women. Don’t we? We feel good that we are born in this ...