Down

.

Sometimes you just feel that way.

Image ©opyright Niladri Roy.

Of Bulls, Cows, 'Makad's and Gahzals

Haven’t blogged anything remotely eclectic or esoteric in a while. Why is that? Is nothing happening that’s worth making a wisecrack over? Possibly. Or, I must be getting jaded at poking fun at people and things. Need to focus on making fun of me for a change.

Hmm… that should be easy: Stupid loser can’t figure out what he wants in life, still! Whoa! Hold that thought; not so fast! I know what I want. It’s just that I don’t get it. No siree-bob (Yikes! That expression must have gone out with the Boers… and no sir, I don’t mean maybe…).

So. Why don’t I get what I want? Is it that I want too much? Probably.

S says, in her inimitable Marathi ishtyle, that I want “आखुडशिंगी बहुदुधी” (Akhud-shingi bahu-dudhi). Meaning: I want a cow with little horns and lot’s of milk. Till date, this bull has managed to agree only so far as the cow. I don’t much care for horns and am ambivalent about the milk, unless you are planning to get down to defining that in terms of cups… now if that isn’t taking the bull by the horns, I don’t know what is ;)

Long and short of it: one will worry about horns and cups later. Where be cow?

And, if indeed there be cow in the future, could I handle it? S’pose that turns out to be “माकडाच्या हाती कोलित” (Makdachya haati kolit)? (If you don’t speak Marathi, I shall now have the perverse pleasure of having you find out what that means… Heo phon! [translation: Have fun!] :D)

Oh! And in the offchance that you are my शायर की ग़ज़ल (shyaar ki gahzal), and are reading this, can you please let me know आप कहीं [तो] मिलोगी (aap kahin [toh] milogi)?

Thank you!

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Image ©opyright Niladri Roy.

Blazes of the Fall

Northern California seems to be having a late Fall this year, if the colors in the trees are to be believed. The rest of today seems as bleak as only rain-soaked NorCal can look on a cloudy December day. How the fall colors are showing up so bright is a mystery to me, but who's complaining? Rare to see a combination of greens, yellows, oranges and reds in one frame. So, here's another photo-post, again.

Life's looking as bleak as a rainy NorCal day too. Please, when's summer? Or, at least, Blazes of the Fall?

[Image ©opyright Niladri Roy]

George Crabbe; Repurposed.

Thus by himself compell'd to live each day,
To wait for certain hours the tide's delay;
At the same times the same dull views to see,
The bounding marsh-bank and the blighted tree;
The water only, when the tides were high,
When low, the mud half-cover'd and half-dry;
The sun-burnt tar that blisters on the planks,
And bank-side stakes in their uneven ranks;
Heaps of entangled weeds that slowly float,
As the tide rolls by th' impeded boat.

- George Crabbe. Peter Grimes from The Borough.

Image ©opyright Niladri Roy

Scent of a Woman

You know what's kept me goin' all these years?
The thought that one day -- Never mind. Silly.

Just the thought that maybe one day, I'd --
I could have a woman's arms wrapped around me... and her legs wrapped around me. That I could wake up in the morning and she'd still be there. Smell of her. All funky and warm.

I finally gave up on it.

- Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman.
Academy Awards Best Motion Picture 1992.

* * * * * *

Heck, if we are not being original anymore and quoting other people anyway, I thought I'd come back and post one more quotable. This time by the great Pablo Neruda himself.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

-- Love Sonnet XI, by Pablo Neruda
(added to this post November 3 at 11:47 AM)

Busy Trying to Get Busy

Haven’t blogged in a while. Been busy trying to get busy. Have no clue what I am going to blog just now, but, what the heck, one has to make a start, hasn’t one?

That’s the thing about being busy getting busy as well. One has to make that start.

How simple it is to put off for tomorrow what could be done today. As I have claimed before, if procrastination were art, I would be Michelangelo. So, what is one to do if one is hit with this sudden urge to atone for one’s sins past and go about doing today’s stuff today, with a vengeance?

Hmm, I will let myself figure out the solution to that particular problem later. At this point, let me just bask in the warmth of the fact that I feel like turning productive again.


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Time Goes Slowly at Work

Time goes slowly at work.

Incredible how much you can not accomplish if you put your mind to it.

If procrastination were art, I would be Michelangelo. Faced with a task, I usually, start out by telling myself that I have plenty of time to do this anyway. The illusion of endless time, I think, is the cornerstone of good procrastination. It is one of those concept things, you know: like attaining Nirvana. You have to appreciate the infinity of time and rise above the pettiness of Quarterly Business Planning presentations and Swim-Lane Charts to achieve a state of oneness with the great void of consciousness.

Void of Consciousness. Oxymoron? Hardly! To be conscious of the fact that time is of no importance, that it has existed since the beginning, and continues into infinity, is to appreciate that it represents the Ultimate Emptiness. For, compared with something so vast, everything else is just random white noise.

So I busy myself in my quest of daily Nirvana, my pursuit of that ethereal goal of oneness with the supreme Emptiness.

The day grinds on, but I am immune.

Time goes slowly at work.

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The Coffee Machine is Broken

The coffee machine is broken.

I wish there was another, as good. The only alternative is to walk down to the Starbucks in the cafeteria. That was so much easier when one was in Building 4. One could just run down the stairs. Going to the cafeteria from Building 5 is a pain. Especially if it rains. Then, the road between the two buildings is dangerous. Facilities hastily put in a wooden speed bump to slow traffic down. It’s still dangerous. I hope I can get hit one day. Nothing fatal, you know... but it would be nice not to have to come to work for a while.

I really wish “work” were less demanding. I really don’t mind the work-work. What gets my goat every time is the number of silly, unnecessary presentations that crawl out of the woodwork that don’t necessarily have anything to do with what one is supposed to be doing, but are a feel-good, look-how-much-I’m-getting-done for various powers that be.

Yeah, yeah, I know… I’ve been goofing off lately. You would too, in my situation. I need to bounce back, but quick. How I could I ever let myself get where I am? Well, long story! Some other day, perhaps?

The road between Buildings 4 and 5 is dangerous. I hope I can get hit one day. Maybe I will.

Coz, the coffee machine is broken.

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Prisoners of Twilight

Today I stumbled upon a concept of the human condition which I will call the Twilight Zone. To put it simply it is a time of human existence that cannot be characterized as either night or day. It is neither black nor white, neither good nor bad, not one thing or the other.

The Twilight Zone might be a time in our lives when we are passing from a particularly unsavory period to one of relatively happier circumstances. By the same token, of course, it might mean a period when we are about to transition from relative calm to extremely unfriendly weather as well.

At some point in our lives we are all Dwellers of Twilight.

There is nothing surprising in that. Frustration, perhaps, but not surprise. For some of us though, there is a tragedy in the offing. We might never get out of the Twilight zone. Inertia and circumstances somehow conspire to keep us swirling in a vortex of misery from which we are neither spat out nor swallowed to its depths. I call these unfortunate souls Prisoners of Twilight.

It could be argued, of course that if one were about to exit an era of happiness and enter into another of decidedly murkier outlook, one is better off not exiting the Twilight zone at all. That, however, is the short term view. For, aren’t these things invariably cyclical? I mean, if I am going to keep going round and round in this Twilight without ever exiting, even if to unpleasantness, how am I ever going to seize the opportunity of transiting from unpleasantness to pleasantness?

Sounds familiar? Or have I been smoking something?

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