Drooling frothy foam, drawing closer to home.
Snarling intermittently, (gasp) it's coming for me!
Beast or ogre, let this be over.
Go for your kill, have your fill.
Squinting through the blinding light,
was I here today? Will I stay the night?
Tomorrow isn't what yesterday predicted.
This is the truth, I am addicted.
Plunging head first, into the ravine.
Serpent infested, the water looks divine!
Chilling and hissing.
Now I'm reveling in what I was missing.
Another day gone by, only a lifetime ahead.
Inching closer to the sky?
Or plummeting further to the dead?
Eyes
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Monday, 28 June 2010
The evil egg.
The doted upon only child was diagnosed with a protein deficiency. The doctor said she needed some kind of animal protein. This would be fairly easy for the most of us, but for Gujarati Jains this was like a bad joke. Let me provide some background here. Gujarati's are an Indo-Aryan ethnic group that originate in the state of Gujarat, in India. They are traditionally staunch vegetarians and can be religiously either Hindu or Jain. I won't elaborate about Hinduism. Jainism, is an ancient religion of India that prescribes a life of extreme non-violence and peaceful co-operative co-existence. In food terms, that means they are not only vegetarians, but do not even consume root vegetables like potatoes, onions, garlic etc, since these are the source of life and would need to be killed to consume these foods. If truth be spoken, this maybe the main focus of many practicing Jains in modern India, the rest being a lot more work. So the food part of it is fanatically, obsessively observed. These intricate differences, incidentally, are the decisive factor why modern day Indians still refer to origins and castes while choosing a partner. Imagine the complex institue of marriage being further challenged by Garlic butter fights!!
Ok, background provided. Are you getting why the need for animal protein for a Jain is a bad joke? But these were reasonable educated people, work had brought them to a modern thinking metropolitan like Bombay. They were good parents and now they had to provide their precious child with animal protein.
An egg, that was the solution! A neatly 'packaged' protein, it won't have to be handled, didn't have a raw messy, bloody form. They were told you could just drop the whole thing, as it is, into a pot of boiling water and it's done. So an egg was procured. A single egg to start with. It was brought home and then sat alone, in the never used circular slots in the door of the refrigerator. They didn't break the word to the elders in the family about the new addition to the pantry. That would have to be done gently. They were not ready to prepare it either, that would have to wait as well - till enough courage was mustered.
Ethnic groups, like everywhere in the world, tend to live in closely knit communities. India consists of such varying ethnicities internally, that the metropolitans, though consisting of few real foreigners, have similar communities. They are usually perfectly functioning social networks where people look out for each other, far from their cultural origins. Also a place where nothing goes unnoticed. It wasn't long before word trickled out about the egg amongst them. Other fellow Jains passed on muffled whispers about the 'impure' possession. Less and less neighbours came by on casual calls. Their friends found lame reasons not to dine at their home anymore. There was more, the elders in the house had caught on as well. There would be a lot of answering to do. As the good Jain family watched on, their popularity was fading fast, they were losing both family and friends. The egg was taking charge, silently and surely, taking control of their lives. Now every time the refrigerator door opened it stared back at them smugly. Sitting there, reigning coolly. While their world was turning upside down. If there ever was a doubt, this was proof of what such blasphemous behaviour brings upon. It was clear what had to be done. The protein deficiency was the devil in disguise. The egg it's evil accomplice. It had to go.
God bless the nice egg-eating colleague at work, there's no saving him anymore anyway! The evil egg was destroyed (and devoured) in egg hell, a sizzling hot pan!
Ok, background provided. Are you getting why the need for animal protein for a Jain is a bad joke? But these were reasonable educated people, work had brought them to a modern thinking metropolitan like Bombay. They were good parents and now they had to provide their precious child with animal protein.
An egg, that was the solution! A neatly 'packaged' protein, it won't have to be handled, didn't have a raw messy, bloody form. They were told you could just drop the whole thing, as it is, into a pot of boiling water and it's done. So an egg was procured. A single egg to start with. It was brought home and then sat alone, in the never used circular slots in the door of the refrigerator. They didn't break the word to the elders in the family about the new addition to the pantry. That would have to be done gently. They were not ready to prepare it either, that would have to wait as well - till enough courage was mustered.
Ethnic groups, like everywhere in the world, tend to live in closely knit communities. India consists of such varying ethnicities internally, that the metropolitans, though consisting of few real foreigners, have similar communities. They are usually perfectly functioning social networks where people look out for each other, far from their cultural origins. Also a place where nothing goes unnoticed. It wasn't long before word trickled out about the egg amongst them. Other fellow Jains passed on muffled whispers about the 'impure' possession. Less and less neighbours came by on casual calls. Their friends found lame reasons not to dine at their home anymore. There was more, the elders in the house had caught on as well. There would be a lot of answering to do. As the good Jain family watched on, their popularity was fading fast, they were losing both family and friends. The egg was taking charge, silently and surely, taking control of their lives. Now every time the refrigerator door opened it stared back at them smugly. Sitting there, reigning coolly. While their world was turning upside down. If there ever was a doubt, this was proof of what such blasphemous behaviour brings upon. It was clear what had to be done. The protein deficiency was the devil in disguise. The egg it's evil accomplice. It had to go.
God bless the nice egg-eating colleague at work, there's no saving him anymore anyway! The evil egg was destroyed (and devoured) in egg hell, a sizzling hot pan!
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Find your mojo. Dare to be more.
Few things unite the world like the ball. The fever, nail biting suspense and the spirit of the whole event have gripped even the ones most indifferent to football at the best of times, i.e me. Now I'm in. Hook, line and sinker!
And I'm glad I am. I'm not going to attempt making a recount or analysis of something I barely understand. The part I'm enjoying the most is how this event is serving to be a show case of daring defying expectation.
The so called stoney faced, expressionless North Koreans unapologetically cried their eyes out at the sound of their national anthem. Tears of pure unbridled joy. Probably the only 'real' team in the event, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Uncorrupted by all the commerce of profits and losses involved and insanely paid players. They were there to play football and took immense pride and pleasure in it. Resurfaced on this arena after 44 years, at the very best half a fight was probably expected of them. They gave the visibly self-confident Brazilians a run for their time. A swarm of red flies through the game, they fought tirelessly and passionately. But for a few chinese waving the North Korean flag, no other fans or supporters were apparent. What drove them? What is their mojo? Belonging to a cage of a country with a crazed ruler? Whatever it is, they have found it and they are using it.
Spain certainly had everything going for them, or so we believed. What happened to their mojo? Granted the Germans, as expected, sailed through against the Aussies to an almost effortless, hands down victory. What happened to them against the already defeated Serbians? Was it an overconfident underestimation of your supposedly weak opponent? What better advantage can an opponent be given? Sure enough the Serbs rose to the challenge and turned their reputation around, holding their ground against the mighty Germans. They dared to be more.
In spite of being knocked out (practically) senseless, the Aussies weren't wallowing in defeatism. Their bouncing right back and charging through the game, even with a reduced team, caught Ghana entirely off guard. They gave all they had, and then they gave more.
There's less than a month left of this unique atmosphere. Of peaceful international fighting. Of learning that the ball is round and everything is possible. As long as you dare.
And I'm glad I am. I'm not going to attempt making a recount or analysis of something I barely understand. The part I'm enjoying the most is how this event is serving to be a show case of daring defying expectation.
The so called stoney faced, expressionless North Koreans unapologetically cried their eyes out at the sound of their national anthem. Tears of pure unbridled joy. Probably the only 'real' team in the event, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Uncorrupted by all the commerce of profits and losses involved and insanely paid players. They were there to play football and took immense pride and pleasure in it. Resurfaced on this arena after 44 years, at the very best half a fight was probably expected of them. They gave the visibly self-confident Brazilians a run for their time. A swarm of red flies through the game, they fought tirelessly and passionately. But for a few chinese waving the North Korean flag, no other fans or supporters were apparent. What drove them? What is their mojo? Belonging to a cage of a country with a crazed ruler? Whatever it is, they have found it and they are using it.
Spain certainly had everything going for them, or so we believed. What happened to their mojo? Granted the Germans, as expected, sailed through against the Aussies to an almost effortless, hands down victory. What happened to them against the already defeated Serbians? Was it an overconfident underestimation of your supposedly weak opponent? What better advantage can an opponent be given? Sure enough the Serbs rose to the challenge and turned their reputation around, holding their ground against the mighty Germans. They dared to be more.
In spite of being knocked out (practically) senseless, the Aussies weren't wallowing in defeatism. Their bouncing right back and charging through the game, even with a reduced team, caught Ghana entirely off guard. They gave all they had, and then they gave more.
There's less than a month left of this unique atmosphere. Of peaceful international fighting. Of learning that the ball is round and everything is possible. As long as you dare.
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Air.
Her eyelids were so heavy, she could barely keep them open. She stood at the entrance of the tube car grasping the pole tight with her boney hands, her brittle skin stretching over the clasping fist. A little more and it could just split. Her feet were unsteady while she stood, her feather weight too much to carry. She was clearly no drunk, just very sick, and travelling the tube. All her possessions were in the bag strung on her shoulders, a mammoth task for this feeble body, nearly buckling under the strain of it. She must have been about 60, she looked like 80. Nameless and faceless. A nice clear vacant radius of space was maintained, distancing her from the others. The people.
Peak rush hour at 8:00 in the morning, yet this space must be spared. Her lips kept twitching, sometimes curling up, forming a nauseous expression. The radius grew. She took her time getting off the car when the tube halted at the next station. The vacant space started filling up instantaneously. I waited till she was safely off before I alighted. She startled, eyes suddenly wide and alert when I touched her shoulder. Our eyes locked for a moment before I asked her if she was okay, if she needed any help. For a fleeting moment there, she actually looked fine. 20 years younger. Her face lit up, her nauseously curled lips straightened out into a smile. Just for a moment, before her eyes welled up with tears. The hospital was just around the corner, that's where she was headed. They were expecting her, they would take care of her she assured me, between profuse expressions of gratitude. Gratitude for what? For seeing her? For touching her?
Embarrassed and ashamed, I watched her totter on. Diminishing. No ones's sister, no one's mother, no one's daughter, no one's friend, no one's nothing. Air.
Peak rush hour at 8:00 in the morning, yet this space must be spared. Her lips kept twitching, sometimes curling up, forming a nauseous expression. The radius grew. She took her time getting off the car when the tube halted at the next station. The vacant space started filling up instantaneously. I waited till she was safely off before I alighted. She startled, eyes suddenly wide and alert when I touched her shoulder. Our eyes locked for a moment before I asked her if she was okay, if she needed any help. For a fleeting moment there, she actually looked fine. 20 years younger. Her face lit up, her nauseously curled lips straightened out into a smile. Just for a moment, before her eyes welled up with tears. The hospital was just around the corner, that's where she was headed. They were expecting her, they would take care of her she assured me, between profuse expressions of gratitude. Gratitude for what? For seeing her? For touching her?
Embarrassed and ashamed, I watched her totter on. Diminishing. No ones's sister, no one's mother, no one's daughter, no one's friend, no one's nothing. Air.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)