Wednesday, 23 May 2007

It just rained...

A stream of people crowded around the open window. Watching the yellow earth moving monsters getting drenched and yet hammering away. A sudden thought struck me. Why stay behind the glass windows and peer out like some convict enviously looking at freedom from within. So I went out and up and got drenched.

Brilliant.

Thursday, 17 May 2007

...Those little bright spots...

Imagine a void. There is no light.

Like superman, the senses are receiving inputs like crazy from all around...

The moment you are awake the little blips like come streaming like a blast of sand grains and hit on the surface of your sensory being. The hits register like phosphorescence. Little white twinkling stars on the black void space of your being at that moment. This is a slice in your time.

Slice. Slice. Slice.      Slice. Slice. Slice. Slice.       Slice. Slice….

So many abysmally small slices in time. The slices stack up and become a wave of dominoes toppling. The plings, the hits, the sand blast, the waves which wash over you like your face in a dust storm, like the droplets of rain when you rush through an onrushing drizzle of rain. You zoom outwards and soon the white plings look like the star field simulation screen saver.  The space of time and the stars of sensory plings move away rapidly from you. The ride is on. The zwoosh as you helplessly plummet down the roller coaster, the water slide, the avalanche, the tsunami…

As the experiences wash over you, few glow and scintillate brilliant in the void. Like a when a flash bulb goes phat in a cartoon movie and all the subjects in the photograph freeze for the moment and are indelibly registered as a photograph. A memory? A nothing that dies like an ember and leaves the glow and the warmth behind? A taste? A tingle? A … ?

Ill collect some of the photographs and throw them at the sticky board of this page, this space, this blog, this scribble-do… The blutack of this cyber space will grab it fast.

 Soon the photos will also become a part that you see all the time and so dont see any more. To see is to register. Someday when the tempo dies and the roller coaster slows down a bit, Ill perhaps notice these wistfully like the dusty memories on the make shift thermocol soft board wanna be and smile wistfully. Ill reach out and gently wipe the memories with sepia at the edges --- and a smile will lift the corners of my mouth. The corners of the eyes will feel a bit moist.

... in the beginning

I thought of doing this moments before I wrenched the throttle at the Sancheti hospital crossing a couple of days back.

I'm surprised I even sustained the urge...