Bleeding Hearts

I dislike labels and I dislike people who act according to what their self-chosen label tells them to do. Life often asks upon us to deliver extraordinary responses which our label may not allow us to indulge in. And I must confess an increasing sense of dismay these last couple of months as every belief I have held to, save one, has come crashing around me.

Should I believe in the unrestrained power of free individuals to transact their every day business safe from the regulation of the state, secure in their natural ingenuity? Is all innovation good? Can numbers triumph over the ills of everyday life? And is economic progress more important than anything else? I guess most of my carefully practiced answers, all couched in perfectly reasonable logic, have changed now.

I am the old man all alone at sea trying to reel in the gigantic fish which he thinks lies at the end of a frightful struggle. And while I figure out my answers to questions posed by others who are cocksure about their own ideas, I am not ashamed to say that I am still confused.

I did not have a close brush with death those days in Mumbai as so many of my acquaintances did. The closest experience I had was of being evacuated from office on Friday after rumours of multiple attacks broke across TV channels. Nor have I lost any near and dear ones. So I cannot betray a personal sense of anger. I however seem submerged in a public sense of outrage emanating from every sensible person I know. The outrage is not unjustifiable. Most of us who live in Mumbai and who commute daily to India’s Ground Zero feel unsafe. We flinch each time we hear a loud sound. We start if we see someone run across the street. Our government has failed us more spectacularly than ever before in our independent history. And yet I pay my taxes, the model of a law-abiding citizen, knowing very well I shall not receive any incremental benefit from any public good.

I have seen people take the streets in protest against the government, proclaiming war on terrorism. I have heard the media saluting the Mumbai spirit of resilience and indifference, the ability to get on with our lives as if nothing happened. I have seen the photos of the slain policemen displayed at every roadside crossing with messages stating that they never will be forgotten. And I have witnessed politician after politician committing one unforgettable gaffe after another. Quite simply they would serve their cause best by just keeping quiet.

No wonder, a lot of public outrage has been directed at the nation’s politicians. Face it, they are a angry nation’s favourite whipping dogs. The anger always smouldered but stopped at that, not surprising for a country of armchair critics. A lot of questions have been raised about the lack of disaster management, poor policing and above all India’s Pakistan policy. I welcome all those questions. Maybe such terrorising epochs serve to shake a nation out of complacency, push her to introspection. Oh but what a terrible price to pay!!!

What I am afraid of is that this anger will be misdirected. I am afraid that a party under siege for its’ poor handling of terror attacks and with an eye on national polls will push this country to a messy war. A war which will consume more lives than we can even imagine now. A war that most of Mumbai’s street protestors are vociferously demanding today. I believe the solution lies closer home.

A lot of public anger against the political class is a sum of India’s rural-urban divide. Increasingly most of urban India like me, has chosen to be apolitical. Most of them don’t even turn up to vote. The vast rural masses, whether out of free will or no, still turn up enthusiastically on election day and decide the course of action for India. No wonder, the average legislator or minister turns a blind eye to national issues for his survival in politics does not depend on it. Do you think the people of Sangli would think less of their four-time MLA who thinks that such small things do happen in large cities? Or the people of rural Malampuzha care about their representative making a public mockery of a slain martyr? Unfortunately for us, the former happened to be the home minister of Maharashtra and the latter the Chief Minister of a state.

India’s have-nots couldn’t care less about terror or war because they have other pressing issues. Issues that the media and the urban elite cannot pretend to understand. The cost of pushing the nation into war is further economic deprivation and stalling the growth engine that has made entrepreneurs out of nobodies. We need banks to keep lending, we need goods to be produced, we need investment in roads and irrigation. And to a street protestor who symbolically held up bangles, I say this - there is nothing eunuch-like about having a bleeding heart. Every year, our growth engine pulls thousands out of poverty. We cannot afford to throw that away.

Instead of diverting resources to destructive means, they should be focussed here at home. Into more recruitment into the police, higher salaries, better bulletproof jackets (instead of the torn dilapidated sorry things they carry now, which allowed them to be shot at will). Everyone’s talking about a fiscal stimulus anyways. Don’t stop at the cities though. We have to accept that we are vulnerable to conflict. And we have to deal with it. And attacking other countries will not end the threat of terror as America has realised to her dismay. It will only delay it.

I realize I am more afraid of my government than of any terrorist. Will that ever change?

I can't write anything sober...Its' hopeless

The Age of the Liberal

I write not for myself. I write for the wind which touches every fellow human being. Take my words to the farthest corners of the world so that it resounds forever. I write for the waves which dash unrepentant against the rocks and will continue to do so till the end of time itself. I write for freedom. I write for those who still writhe under the yoke of slavery and thralldom. Your pain is mine. Your tears flow freely from my unblinking eyes. I live within you, feeling every emotion every thought that flows through your mind.

I rail against my oppression. Together we shall defy timelessness, misery and death. Together we shall wreak vengeance against those who seek to tie us down. For the undying spirit soars far above what you can understand.

This is the kingdom of love where all are welcome to partake of my feast. And you shall feel my strength flow through your veins. Believe that you can change your world and I shall empower you. For there is none that can hold you back. There is none that can hold me back.

The tide has turned. I can feel it in every pore. For here come my immortals, resolute and bold. Fearless they stride across the face of earth. For they belong everywhere and yet they belong nowhere. What is my identity? What is my nationality? What is my language? I do not know nor do I care. For I am neutral and serene. I am no one and yet I am everyone.

Every boundary you have known will soon be cast away, like it never even existed. Every illusion you have known and lived by will be discarded. I do not wish for you to join me in my quest. I only ask to be understood. I only wish to be heard.

I will not yield...

Armegeddon

Cocoons of silence enrapture me
A medley of insanity in wine
And while they converse in whispers
I see every loose end, every pattern

The blue see beckoning me
Into her delightful arms gasping
I pause greedy for breath
To still the shooting pain

I stumble past a dark alley
Still looking for a reason spent
For years a beacon had helped shape
The direction my life had flown

Emboldened, I would scatter cynics
Non-believers to my chosen faith
I would impress my unyielding mind
To turn the weak into me

Till the green house came crashing
Its smithereens rendered unrecognizable
My illusory belief no more solid
Than the wisps of my cigarette smoke

My faith in freedom now shaken
By avarice and greed
The scepter of innovation broken
By those who said man was free

Careless Whispers

Mere whispers running amok
Riddling me with doubt
If rules are never kept
Why must I keep faith

All around me they drive
With debris of failure
And yet they hold true
Without a trace of failure

What doesn't kill you will only make you stronger

After they complained that my blog was defunct it was time to get down to some serious writing :) I couldn't think of a poem so I had to put in some reflections...

I remember going to a gym once a long time ago and I still recollect my trainer, a burly monster of a man, proclaiming "Hate your body". Physical pain is good. It drives you; nay even better inspires you to put in an extra notch. I was out for a jog today after waking up at 2:30 in the afternoon. After the 7th round I wanted to stop. Then again after the 11th and so on. I didn't . I drove myself until I could run no more. My legs gave away and I had to sit down to support myself. I treasure the sense of achievement afterwards notwithstanding the pain in my sides.

Failure is good. I can't win every day. I probably haven't won in a long time. That's what makes every little success in life so amazingly special. That also why I revel in the company of those who I love; even if they aren't around me. Sometimes hearing a long distance voice is enough to lift the most depressed spirits. Success is relative.

I am endeavouring to be less talkative. Difficult task really... A good starting point for me is not to participate in group discussions when people are drinking. Red and flushed faces excitably gesticulating to press their point home in a smelly smoke filled Bombay pub. Listen em out. They are my friends and I must hear them out. If I don't want to talk, well I won't. I will listen. If it makes them happy to spend time with a silent me, who they are making fun of; let them. I am thick-skinned. At least I can still make others laugh. Ponds the entertainer lives on.

Someone, a good friend once upon a time, bullied me to have dinner with her on Friday night. She presumed I would be a good kid at work :) I guess she spoke out of personal experience . How many at IIMB would believe that? Hardly many. After all, there are people who would always bet the opposite view as me. The contrarian approach with Ponds' market knowledge...coz he is a great guy but he doesn't know a great deal if you know what I mean. Sometimes a joke can be stretched too far even if friends do it.

I sill want to win...

Forbidden

Love tempt me no more

Bind not my feet to strange chains

And my heart to forbidding stone

Long have you toyed with me

Deluded my wild senses

And blinded my puny affections

Long have you misled me senseless

And made me believe I could have

What was never meant to be mine

Must you leave me bereft of all joy

Must you torment my every living moment

Must you always darken my doorstep

With your unwelcome craven shadow

You made me wield the pen

And weave a landscape endowed

With your essence, its every strand

Enmeshed in your bewitching snare

A honeyed trap and no more

For an unsuspecting fool poet

A prisoner to my very own words

A mute witness to those who left

You leave behind many a memory

Of what could only have come to pass

You promised and yet you forbade

Seizing every insignificant gift you could

Dark nights and even darker thoughts

Have you rendered on my soul and mind

Till at last I have lost

All but abject guilt and shame

Your prey now tires of the game

Pray now let me escape this endless void

I shall now glide away singing

An elegy to unrequited love