Digging for Meaning

A week ago I met these folks on the streets of Delhi, near Saket. 2 men, 2 women and a child. They were wearing clean clothes and they walked upright. They were trying to talk to people passing by but were quite meek so didn't always succeed. When I passed by, one of them asked if I understood Marathi. I said I did. It was quite dark, late in night & I felt that it might be one of those begging groups so I was cautiously moving ahead anyways. But their meekness, their clean clothes & them being Marathi made me pause and listen. I don't recall their names now. But I noted down one name that I think is relevant here - the name of the person who put them in a desperate situation - Rajiv Karade. According to the guy in white shirt, Rajiv is a labour contractor who brought them from a village in Maharashtra. They specialise in the work of digging earth for laying of telecom cables. The men & women had worked with the contractor earlier near Mumbai too. Aft...

"The world will grow!" The word will grow. surfing on a speed boat in the sea of words, corporate predictions of economy & industries dash against reality ineffectually, withering away like soap suds. Those smooth upward curves promised by the analysts need to wear the wrinkles of human condition. The modern day charlatans, safely tied to a tie and behind glass skyscrapers, let the excel sheets do their legwork. They exercise the columns and rows, stretching the formula here & there. where's the variable of ineffective leadership? where's the variable of the will of the young? where's the variable of the villages burnt down by hatred? where's the variable of the dreamer's dreams? In the least, where's the rear view mirror? If you must let a quack exist, teach him to be entertaining at least. 

 

Centipedes running through air in distance the mystery of a hundred quick feet the arc of motion - swifter than comprehension.  ____ Hundreds of ghost lamps undimmed & unflickering circling the city, above our heads.  ____ Metal thundering on concrete Air shimmering on Metal Eye on the shimmer of the air.  ____ Behind the glass monsters it glides without sound, without consequence air sliced by the swift samurai sword. ____

Oh god. Let the day be simple. Like it was written for a cow from the prairies. Let no sludge of pointless meetings block the flow of my life. Let the fall leaves of ideas float down gently on the fertile soil of my mind. and actions flow in tandem through me unhindered & forceful. and if its not to be please quicken the day and let me go to sleep. amen.

(This is a ridiculous travelogue - real experience fantasized for no good reason.) The Aurora factory This is a magical factory. It comes into being only once in a blue-green sky. One can't reach it with a map. What you need is a recipe of luck. I don't know the exact recipe, but i have a fair idea of it's ingredients.  you need -  1. Good warm pajamas 2. A belt (to hold the pajamas in place) 3. A bicycle with 2 happy tyres (The factory goes invisible if one tries to see it through car windows.) 4. A equal partner in crime 5. A town in arctic with bridge over lakes 6. An alarm clock that is able to wake you up at 4 am 7. 3 hours of sauna the day before ( to have red enough eyes. it's a must. it acts as a sort-of filter that makes visibility of magical things easier. ) 8. Loads of luck.  Armed with all these things, we woke up the third time (once at 12, then at 2, then at 4) and stepped out of our warm warm cabin in Kemijarvi. Let me sho...

Cloud, the color of the sky one into another, seamless A slow movement, wind escaped from a hurried eye a frantic eye, inconsolable terrified by what it didn't see a moon that was supposed to there but is not. The eye does not know, it only sees. a moonless sky on a moonlit night. what's real? what's a shadow?