Sheep in the big city

The third chord C major ended the orchestra, or was it the applause that seemed to mingle and merge with the music. There was bach in the air all around. The audience seemed to gather around his focal persona.

He reflected back on all the years of solitude, misery and hardships he had gone through for this day. A subtle music was playing in the background. Everyone seemed to be at ease, a calm had descended over, draping the world in a gloomy silence. He couldn’t figure out why the gloom, the dire dark overloomed despite the occasion, the success. Maybe, with success comes the fear of failure, with height comes the sense of falling down. But he wasn’t afraid, he was just apprehensive, suspicious that all this was not real. Maybe just now, the bubble would burst.

He walked across the breadth of the room. It felt like walking across the world. Here it was apreciative of him, yet ready to pounce on him, awaiting with bated breath … his fall. And over there, he could see his nest, the abandoned abode of sanity and inspiration. He felt her hand on his shoulder, a memory when he played for her, for the sheen .. the glow on her face. And now, here she was – glass bound, beautiful yet unmoving – where is the poignance, the touch, he wondered – almost aloud.

” Did you say something sir”

” No, no .. no.”

The phoney … oh well, just let it be !

He felt a drop drizzle down his back. It was raining. The drops reminding him of the surge of passion he felt with her – and the shallow love he inspired now. Was it inspiration or desperation? He could not figure out. He, as if by an invisible force, impulsively picked up the violin and headed to the rain. Will and grit, that is all he had started with, that is all she loved him for, that is all he felt drained of now. It was chord IV spint quintet, mozart. The rise and the fall .. on his drenched shoulders embarking on a journey, long , ardous – waging a lost war. She was nowhere, not even beethoven could get her back.

” Whats the matter with him? Why is he so .. so .. eccentric?”

And he could not endure it anymore. He stood there till his heart froze into a trance in symphony, it was beethoven’s quintet in a deafening silence. He could hear no more, he could see no more. A drop of red on his chord ….

The greasy pole

” But what is it then that you want ?”

” I don’t know.”

” But you have to do something, you can’t just let it be.”

” Why? I am nursing my dream, that is just the way I want to live.”

He just sat there, underneath the greasy pole. It was a chaos up there, he knew it. Boot-in-face, legs on shoulder, prying eyes, creeping ambition .. and the grease on the pole, that was all he could see. Everyone wanted to be on the top, and those there kept greasing the pole. It was an addiction .. this life. A vicious circle. This was not the life he dreamt of, this was not what he wanted. He took another gulp .. glurggh !

” But how would you survive, how would you go on , To win in the rat-race, you ought to be the cat.” A smile on self-wisdom.

” I am in no rat-race and I don’t want to be. Why don’t you just let me be. “

He remembered the first day he had been there. Crisply dressed, calm, confident and assured. It was like a dream .. but that is not what it proved to be. It just proved to be a greasy pole .. on which he had no intention to climb. He did not want to scale new heights, he did not want fame and fortune. He did not want greased hands ..

” Dont be a child , Roh.. , be practical , realsitic , you would be hand-to-mouth, what else do you have in life ?”

” but what is it that I want ?, Do you know “

” It’s all just bookish crap, good-for-nothing ramblings , it won’t get you anywhere.”

” But, I dont want to be anywhere.”

“God, you are impossible.”

He watched him go back to the greasy pole – boot-in-face – shoulder-climb – …

He puffed hard at his cigerette again. He felt shallow .. unable .. a madening rush of insanity … he took a long gulp again, it would last no long. He called out to the waiter again.

” One more .. repeat the last one rather.”

The sun was setting far away, it was rising in him !

Music and Lyrics .. !

Kukdoo-kudooo !

The alarm from Sudeep’s mobile snared back at me … 7:40 AM. Time to get up … Last night’s Ol’ Monk still hammers inside. He just turned his back to it. Out of shear laze – and to some extent my inability .. or rather ignorance at using a mobile –  , I let it ‘kukdoo-koo’. And doze off for another of those .. ‘ Oh !  i’ll get up in a minute ‘ nap session.

‘Oh re.. It’s 8:30′ ! Hurling loud abuses at god-knows-what, I got off in a run .. catching hold of the slippers .. the spectacles .. the toothbrush .. the book .. the bag .. the ID badge .. and my Breath – more or less in the same order – towards the wardrobe .. I will surely miss the bus today .. Damn these Roorkee-habits die hard ! I ran till my heart ran amock and veins pumped battery acid .. I reached the stop pretty much in time .. 15 Minutes from the bed to the stop … and in a gesture of self-congratulation I let out the pre-historic victory cry .. not out loud though. As I boarded the bus .. I could feel something wrong .. something terribly out of place. ‘That must be the unrest in your stomach pal’ – I heard the voice from within.

I began to rest into the seat now .. and gathered a quicjk view of who-alls and what-alls of the bus. It was the usual crowd. The green-tee-shirted pony-tailed ipod-listening cool guy with the spink bag, the heavily-madeup- apple chewing elder lady, the tongue-tied formal-clad fat young man, the denim-ed pink-shirted supposedly-cool guy, the petty-pretty-pally simple girl and her squirmy-eyed braces-sporting sharp friend. It was pretty much the usual day in Bangalore. There was the same kannada song playing on the radio. I had even starting understanding some of it. It talked of a young girl in a field .. and her lover seeking her in the meadows of love .. it felt beautiful and strikingly in contrast with the pollution-laden traffic filled streets that the bus crossed. I felt elated by the song … and started rhyming along and tip-toe-ing with the catchy tune.

It was then that I realised ‘the-wrong’ and wondered at the marvel of music and lyrics , of serendipitious nature of its existence and its one-ness with our being. It opened my mind and made me realise the mistake .. the wrong .. I looked down in utter dismay at my shoe-less feet .. in blue slippers – hawai chappal to be honest – and wondered aloud ..

‘ A bit of rum and a little trick ..

And life’s music and lyric ..

That is what makes me wonder ..

and makes the heart go tick tock tick .. ‘

PS

Please pardon my utterly dismal attempt at poetry .. !

The alchemy of desire !

He could feel the evening chill settle down on his torn back. He covered his legs with the damp blanket. It was not that cold in there, but his bare body could take it no more … his head fell back .. deep into thoughts ..

She sat near him, he could hear her breathing … strange thumping sound .. His own back was drenched with sweat. He felt the need to talk to someone .. he wasn’t used to all this .. he had never even ….

“Hey … where are you heading ?”

She looked at him .. her eyes were soaring red .. and intent .. he felt the determination in her eyes .. a will to do something. He was shifty-eyed as ever .. could not make eye contact .. guilt remorse fear …

” Running from life ” she said .. and then chuckled ” and you “

” I guess we are together in the journey ” he wondered aloud at the storming thought of running fom life .. in his case .. towards death. He felt the plug inside his jacket.

” But this journey, we all have to do alone .. ” and he again felt a stinging pain in her voice .. but yet she had a charming gleam in her eyes .. with a yearn to live .. entiely contradictory to her expression .. he was bemused by how well she concealed her thoughts behind a chain of words .. he could hear the voice of command in his head .. you have to do this today .. you have to blow up the bus … he felt the fuse again

” Yes, it is true .. ! ” he felt strangely in love with her … he looked around the bus anshe was eveywhere .. the old lady with the kid … the kid .. the youngman and his wife .. the little girl and her father … she was everywhere . in the form of a will to go on.. to not give up … he felt weak in the knees .. he could not do this now … she was too .. too … he coudn’t say it

He surrendered to fate .. he wanted to live even if ..

“Live bombe surrenders .. red alert in the city”