Drinking Alone

Why is drinking alone so misconstrued? Is such behaviour (classically referred to as problem drinking) dangerous for the individual? Or could it be very inocuous? After all people do eat, watch movies, play computer games alone. Why does alcohol carry so much social stigma?

The Great Indian IIM Mela Part 1...

Is it possible to spew out everything you have learnt in the last few years to rank strangers over and over again all day? Is it possible to be so mindlessly numbed so that you don't even know what you are saying and yet realise that your mouth keeps moving and words are coming out? Welcome to the Great Indian IIM Mela, the weirdest potpourri of emotions that one can come across in a lifetime. Pain, agony, aggression, camaraderie, sometimes pure joy but underlying all that there is pressure. Its' everywhere. You can feel it in the faces of your classmates, in the FBI agent lookalike PRs, the trackers swarming around. And to my mind the scariest thing about the close of this life. The drooping shoulders, watching people break down, the set expressions or the forced smiles don't make for pleasant viewing...And yet there is strength and honour :)

Mar 4th (day Zee) - The holiest of holies. The day of reckoning as they put it. For some it would be the realisation of all efforts they had put in over a fairly long point of time. For others I guess not so much. I believe I take the cake in my Day zee preparedness. What with being dragged out from my room from watching 'Two and half men' straight into the Markets interview of my summers company. I think I couldn't stand their scrutiny in the brief interaction and the silent way in which they judged me. I had failed to make the PPO cut and as such had been deemed a pariah. It would have been a miracle if they had hired me.

My personal heroes of that day are undoubtedly a certain horse-like chap I love and a strong silent neighbour. Both strode like giants and won the day in very different ways. I admire their courage and fortitude, again in contrasting styles. One for the manner in which he killed the day and other for unbelievable effort.

And the the night began, a long one. You could feel the tension in the air. Cold forbidding silence. Even the victors of the day would grieve. For in every group there would be a dear friend still left in the process.

It's emotionally draining to write this. I have to postpone the next part to a subsequent post.

Spring

There are many getaways from abject failure. Very easy ones as well. The simplest is to lock yourself in isolation and ruminate over the past. Well its’ tougher than it sounds. Others meander into addictions, yet more self-introspections and sometimes the most drastic step, which I shan’t mention here for the sake of surviving the most terrible beating I would receive and one drunken Bangkok night. The easiest way out is companionship of those who you care for. Love and affection can infuse life into even those who have lost the will to exist. This one is dedicated to all those who stooped to bring back the dead to life….

Arid lands laid waste by the west wind

A blanket of snow and lifelessness

For none lived when even water surrendered

Captive to the icy layers

Ah but does life ever give up

Meanders it in mysterious ways

Bubbling in suspended isolation

For the warm might yet return

For life teams in hidden caverns

In stolen water under the icy calm

And melt away will the stony silence

When life will silence the autumn leaves

And there shall be spring and bloom

Flowers will rise in every brook

The sea of colours will overwhelm

Every inch of winter that ever remained

The Land of Nod

The Land of Nod

A medley of thoughts, hopes and expressions

Yet with unwavering honesty and conviction

She strides across my life fleetingly

Brighter than many who crossed my sky.

One moment she stares across the room

And as I wonder to myself

Could a mere smile be so beautiful?

To light my life with so much optimism

There she has passed into the Land of Nod.

Her beauty is a wondrous sight

And yes she very well knows it

For she stands out as stark

As a beacon in a jungle of monstrosities

Her beauty however is but one of many

A gift which she proudly possesses

Be the written word or the spoken

She essays them with fire and élan.

Here must I reluctantly stop

My puny words do no further justice

To script her saga or call it tale

One of the finest who I have ever known

The King of Hearts

The King of Hearts

A king needs her kingdom

To rule and govern

Those whose lives she has touched

By many a gift some seen others hidden

A child and yet a woman

Of matchless charm and magnetism

Her beauty and wit have no measure

Mere mortals cannot but come even close

A magical pen does she wield

It essays many a picturesque dream

Her words wreathed with her own beauty

Laced with power and sheer delight

But more potent than her charm or intellect

Is her power of belief and faith

In people, ideas or even a passing thought

She can move mountains if she wants to.

A loyal subject have I been for years

Loving, admiring and looking up to her

Alas the journey draws to a close

The light will move way and leave behind

A grieving me for her company and strength.

The Eyes

Full many a path had I tread

Till the edge of the dark forest

And each time overwrought by the mist

Would I return morose but hopeful

Those gloomy recesses had stirred

Within me an unforeseen desire

To venture into the uninviting depths

I had only but myself to overcome

Till finally stung by a grave wrong

I plunged fearlessly into them

Heedless of even the great Medusa

No mere gaze could now turn me to stone

And then at last I beheld them

Those twin pools of gray-green

Seething with gravity yet full of mischief

Dripping with sorrow yet kind and inviting

The most beautiful sight I had ever seen

All my woes suddenly seemed forgotten

I only wished to stare at the misty depths

Even Father Time seemed vanquished

I emerged a converted believer

Change is ephemeral

Curiously enough there is little discontinuity in life. It potters down familiar paths, looping and winding along with very few surprises springing up. Always? Well maybe not...

When Romulus founded Rome he is supposed to have made a remark when he sighted 12 vultures in the eastern sky that Rome would be the most powerful empire for all of 12 centuries. But then it would lose all its' glory and fall. And fall it did reeling after one barbarian attack after another, toppling away, burying the decadence of its' people. So did the proud Incas and Mayas, so did Alexander, Egypt...You name it.. history is littered with failures..one to match every glorious triumph.

Some call it the law of averages. Others the hand of destiny. I guess one never knows. But there are these fundamental changes which wreck life apart. They can alter everything. What you believe in, what you desire, what you are proud of. As if your past form never really existed. Like Christ you died and got resurrected all along. But something got messed up and you are now a fundamentally different person with not even a mere shadow of the past to linger along.

Whether for the better or the worse is a pointless question. Change is fundamental and inevitable. There can be no philosophical tag attached to it. But change can certainly overcome you. Evolution demands sacrifice, sometimes when you are least prepared for it.

Conflict, pain and angst are the favourite agents of change. Often our own actions lead us down to the threshold of change, as if inadvertently we seek pain. Doesn't sound likely does it? At least the sense of adventure remains, again I guess it works only when you emerge on top of the wave. But one really doesn't have the luxury of choosing not to change.