It feels bad when you wake up at 2am and realize that you had been sleeping since 6 in the evening. Now there’s no more sleep to be found. Worse, you would have missed dinner and there’s no food around. Fortunately, it’s a Friday-Saturday midnight, which means there won’t be any internet cut at night. In short, I am back to blogging and the first thing that comes to me is a poem that I read long time back, in school: Viplav Gaan, by Balkrishna Sharma Naveen.

कवि कुछ ऐसी तान सुनाओ जिससे उथल पुथल मच जाए!
एक हिलोर इधर से आये, एक हिलोर उधर से आये,
प्राणों के लाले पड़ जाएँ, त्राहि त्राहि स्वर नभ में छाए,
नाश और सत्यानाशों का धुँआधार जग में छा जाए,
बरसे आग जलद जल जाएँ, भस्मसात भूधर हो जाएँ,
पाप पुण्य सद्सदभावों की धूल उड़ उठे दाएं-बायें,
नभ का वक्षस्थल फट जाए, तारे टूक टूक हो जाएँ,
कवि कुछ ऐसी तान सुनाओ जिससे उथल पुथल मच जाए.

माता की छाती का अमृतमय पय काल-कूट हो जाए,
आखों का पानी सूखे, वे शोणित की घूंटे हो जाएँ,
एक ओर कायरता काँपे, गतानुगति विगलित हो जाए,
अंधे मूढ़ विचारों की वह अचल शिला विचलित हो जाए,
और दूसरी ओर कंपा देने वाला गर्जन उठ धाये,
अंतरिक्ष में एक उसी नाशक तर्जन की ध्वनि मंडराए,
कवि कुछ ऐसी तान सुनाओ जिससे उथल पुथल मच जाए.

नियम और उपनियमों के ये बंधन टूक टूक हो जाएँ,
विश्वम्भर की पोषक वीणा के सब तार मूक हो जाएँ,
शांति दंड टूटे, उस महारुद्ध का सिंहासन थर्राए,
उसकी श्वासोच्छ्वास वाहिका विश्व प्रांगन में घेहराए,
नाश! नाश! हाँ, महानाश की प्रलयंकारी आँख खुल जाए,
कवि कुछ ऐसी तान सुनाओ जिससे उथल पुथल मच जाए.

Rigourous Anal Pleasure Experienced.

PS: I had an exam today.

My stint with graphic design for IIT Madras activities, or for that matter any formal activity, is long over. It’s now limited to occasional work for friends and personal creative pursuits. Over the last few days, I designed these two posters:

First announcement for Breakthrough, a Business Plan Competition organized by C-TIDES, the entrepreneurship cell of IIT Madras.

Moli had called me to shoot him with the new hostel furniture. He was trying to edit the picture, I had this idea of a new brand. So the poster.

When I left my room for lunch last Saturday I had plans to come back and work on my resume and the long pending dual degree project (DDP). Okay, the worst case could have been me delaying both the stuff. But there was no way I could have imagined that I would return on Sunday evening, my white t-shirt having turned into some colour that no optimist could classify as white and my jeans moist and sandy. I had a little adventure.

So the lunch. The regular, at Himalaya. It was a hot day. Still I thought to accompany Doodh who was going out of institute for a courier. We had a bike. We left IIT and after an hour decided to go to Bachcha’s place. His flat is on OMR and that makes a good ride. Half an hour later, we were at his door. Moli was already there.

Someone once said, always carry liquor when meeting old friends. We meet every weekend, still we think the idea of liquor is good. So we had beer. And we decided that Raju Srivastav’s shaadi wala piece is a classic. After all that, we went to Ghalib’s place, who lives nearby. We were treated with Smirnoff and food.

Later that night, as four of us (me, Doodh, Moli, Bachcha) were sitting in Dominos we realized we didn’t have the key to Bachcha’s flat. The other occupants had locked it and gone for a movie. Two of us were in shorts without wallet, there was one driving license among us and about 100 in cash. We had two bikes. It was 11pm. We thought of a ride till Mahabalipuram.

The first agenda was to get petrol as both the bikes had limited fuel. We found a pump but it had run out of petrol. We went upto Mahabalipuram but there was no second pump in sight. And that’s when we realized that we didn’t have sufficient petrol to return to Chennai.

We figured that it was best to return to the first and only pump that we had found, and pain the guys there for some petrol that they may be hiding somewhere, or in the worst case, ask directions for the next pump. There was no hidden petrol and the next pump was nowhere close. We were 40 km from Chennai. That night, for the first time, we slept on newspapers on dusty and dirty ground of the petrol pump. Two pairs of slippers with a cardboard sheet on top of them formed a makeshift pillow for one of us. A bag that we were carrying formed the second pillow, shared by two. And the last one used a helmet.

The lights were directly overhead and every 15 minute some vehicle would come blaring its horns or the music player. We couldn’t sleep much. We were awake at 3:30am. Now what?

Further talks with the pump guy told us that this particular pump won’t receive petrol for the next two days.

We asked a couple of bikers for the nearest pump, though we were not sure if we could reach there. Finally someone said there is a pump which has petrol. It was about 15 km away. We decided to try our luck.

We left our place of stay at 4:45am, in the hope of getting fuel and catching sunrise on the beach. The road after Mahabalipuram, parallel to the one that goes to Pondycherri was awesome at dawn. As we rode on we saw it getting brighter gradually. There were fields on either side of the road and the sky sported a colour that any photographer would die for. We didn’t have a camera and the battery in the camera phone was long dead. Finally we got fuel (paid 30 bucks in coins), but it was too cloudy for a nice sunrise.

The next destination was Shore Temple. We had tea and hit the beach there. After a very salty swim, it was time to return to Chennai. The weather didn’t show any signs to lessen its grandeur. And then it started to rain! Nothing beats the combination of bikes on East Coast Road, awesome morning weather, rains, brightly lit patch in the ocean that stays with you beside the road and pink coloured buses passing by every now and then.

We returned to Bachcha’s flat at 9am, too exhausted and hungry. A bath and a Maggi later, everyone knew it was time to sleep, and to return to IIT only when we woke up, whenever that would be.

The original courier that Doodh had to send still lay in his bag.

I didn’t need any bottle as a resort. Friendship did the trick. An old friend had a vast collection of erasers which wiped away everything. Few hours and 400 lines later, I have a new inspiration. And a great one.

The monk has changed hands. It’s the same old bottle, now with me. The problem is,  the single gulp of liquid that’s there is not at all tempting – I too prefer beer.

After a dinner and an hour long walk, all alone, I am all the more confused about solitude/loneliness. The questions that we have about any/every thing rarely change. But our answers, or the nature of absence of them, do change over time. There are times when I feel that life will certainly provide answers, there are times when I feel it’s better to remain clueless.

Crap. Probably few 650 ml bottles tomorrow will erase all that text above.

Regular dreams show me the worst possible, but they never hint at the immediate future. That makes me long for a spell that can transfer others’ nightmares to me. At least they will be safely locked up in the head and not turn real.

Black magic anyone?

What do you do when your days are filled with disillusionment and nights with horrific dreams?

Last few nights I have been dreaming of people dying (some of them repeatedly), me getting special/secret visions, conspiracies being executed, close shaves and what not. It’s common knowledge now that these things are not new in my case, but I must say, they are at an all time high.

Update: It continues.

You can cease to be a Death Eater (and that takes inhuman effort), but you can’t erase the Dark Mark.

For the uninitiated, that’s my attempt at doodling on my hand.