Life is funny ,tragic and interesting at the same time, only if you keep repeating same mistakes in different styles otherwise it is dull, dead and easy-Shailesh Tripathi
Hope is an addictive thing and no addiction easily dies unless an external hit is experienced on Head-Show Stop Presumption
It looked a normal naive day as I stepped outside with dreams of meeting Lunatic Languid Lala,Sleepy Suspicious Watchman and of course my cuddly crazy morse coded dog trained by the most boring Moustached species on the planet:Middle Age Man.I strolled through a rather gloomy day,with clouds waiting to burst in tears as if they sensed my pensive mood.I prayed to God not to meet that Old man again.Yes,the one who hands me receipts and advise at the cost of my peace of mind.Ripping it elegantly in pieces.
I silently admire my neighborhood Fitness Enthusiast who is sweating it out with a freaky expression on his moon like face. I call him Road Runner, as he is always seen in brisk bloody mode. I adjust to my ever rebellious mask and see three dejected diligent nurse walk past me in Salwar Suit, each covering their beautiful face with red, green and blue Mask. With clock ticking down I become restless to get my day started or at least pretend to do something meaningful. I remove my sleek white airpod and my 6″ addictive companion from my black bag and I instantly find relief. Ah! The greatest drug of 21st Century. This 6″ electronic distractor, that lures us into believing that we are intensively engaged. Only to realize, we are just dumbing down an entire generation as there is no law on access time for miraculous monster.My Frankenstein and my friend, my fire and my water, my hope and my fear. All trapped in this strange 6″ Chinese product.
BEEP! BEEP! Schumacher Uncle wakes me up from my dwindling delirium. I hop onto my traveler and immediately take my usual seat .Another day of notoriety, madness and dullness awaits .On my way ,I deeply connect with vibrations of road, disappointed faces on the road and my dangerous dreams. Sudden increase in vibrations of my body indicated that Main gate of my Arena wasn`t far. I hopped off, skimmed through miserable faces, play acted at the security and took a deep decisive breath before I saw Mubbu waving at me.
Mubbu: Good Morning sir
Me(Trying my best to stay mindful):I am good,Good Morning.Can you drop me to my first pitstop:C2C3 Control Station.
Mubbu: Get in
Mubbu is a marvelous middle age man with enthusiasm of a child. During this short journey, he keeps asking curious questions. Sometimes I tell him the truth, rest is mere spontaneity and metaphorical inner state of my mind.
Among all the Citizens of my Arena,I find him among the smartest.
Routine dulls the mind-J Krishnamurti.
As I enter my fireground,I take a detour to interact with my younger versions.More vulnerable and less affected by this joke called Job
Faiz:Sir,We have a problem in lpg unit
Me:Did you inform mechanical?
Faiz:They arent picking up phone
Some of the departments in my Arena have this superpower of disappearing at every working hour.
I scan through process parameters,make few more high fives with my young batch and move upstairs to meet another batch of unannounced Jokers.
On left of my door stands Mr. Monorail and on the right is Mr. India, both giving not so comfortable looks. I humbly ask them to let me enter first. Security is a myth but not stupidity. It is real and raw and tangible only if you keep your eyes and ears open
Mr. Monorail: Can you give me permit for my monorail?
Me: Will you complete this before our government falls?
Mr. Monorail: I am making luxurious electric marvel.
Monorail here refers to system that enables us to lift heavy equipment not the failure project of Mumbai.
Although, this one has a strong potential to be a failure, only if it ever completes.
As I take in few more conscious breathe ,Mr. India vanishes before my eye. I had intended to give him a very important dull job: Valve servicing.
FBI can track Julian Assange but we at our Arena,can never truly guess the whereabouts of this unassuming potter head.
My day had barely started when I received my first call from Mr. Einstein
Einstein:Follow up on air leakage
You have to defy gravity or logic or both to understand Mr. Einstein.
I pulled out my weary warrior,now faded but still absorbing my load:my gritty blue bag.It has a bottle,raincoat and fruits to save me on my adventurous field trip.
Only when I felt a moment of silence and a gentle rain in background,I heard loud longing voice of Sappy
Sappy:Sir,we can solve this line leakage today
Me(in slight state of shock):Which leakage?
Leakages in my Arena are more frequent than good morning messages on WhatsApp group.
I know, the analogy was neither poetic nor deep but neither is work in my RING.
I put on my Yellow Fragile Helmet, walkie talkie and a bit of sarcasm. I stroll down the stairs with sappy to start another day filled with frenzied runs, lost communication and multiple idiosyncratic events perfectly set up for another roller-coaster ride.
Spirituality is the new entertainment and Yoga is the new sports and I am an Enlightened Fool.- My Sane Stupid Self denies!!
My first glimpses with this glamorous glittering glorious world of enlightenment began when I visited Isha Yoga Centre in Coimbatore few years back in Auspicious month of August. Energy is a funny variable, it can wobble about just by mere thought and brought back to equilibrium by curious Chanting of Om. There was a perceptible difference in energy inside and outside the campus.
After a surreal serene Welcome, I along with my fellow Enlightened Fool, entered the mighty mystical marvelous cave.All devotees sat down to meditate in the dark with a hope to get Sweet Samadhi by evening or at least a sumptuous buffet or simply a cosmic high. I was carelessly calmly curious. Intense activity of sitting down and closing your eyes(just like our government response to any legitimate issue) went for an hour with reverberations of OM touching every cell of my being. I was sure, I saw Halo, until I realise,it was a torch light lit by my noisy neighbor in a desperate attempt to find his leg or wife or wallet or senses.
Intense, tragic and funny experience stay with you for a long time, especially when the food is delicious. Fast forward few years, here I am again meditating with an ear to my Super Guru-Sadh guru and a funny dream to attain the ultimate. Only this time, my taste in spirituality was expanded by my lovely lively wife who introduced me to this rather unassuming extraordinary being-J Krishnamurti. Ever since I laid a hand on one of his book. I went on a mission to read ,read and read, listen, listen and listen, to whatever this eccentric yet extraordinarily brilliant man had to say about living or dying.
J.K as he is usually called by his followers, is an extremely serious and funny man at the same time.Yet,he denies space and time and questions mere mortal to explore comedy in tragedy and tragedy in success and thought in entirety. JK was always animated while delivering his sermons yet kept audience bewildered by his clever curious questioning. As I read, read and read,listened,listened and listened, I realised,realised and realized that I didn’t realise.He kept on pushing me to see the division and go beyond while I kept on multiplying my misery and stayed in treacherous time.
Essence of any idea only comes to fruition when you can brag about your new found fantasy or en-lighten-ment to your friends, foes and family. Life is seriously funny.But when you start taking it seriously, it ceases to be funny.The very word itself has the root in lightening yourself of all past burdens accumulated as thought. The point is, whether you see Halo or not, listen to sound of silence or desperation or hallucinate. My only goal is to make you realize that there is nothing to realize.
On this trivial significant silly road called life, you will meet teachers, preachers and saints. Hold your breathe, sit down and expand your lungs. There are jokers everywhere on your path, some jovial others a bit nasty but if you stay sick serious, you will miss the fun. Join me and other marvelous mortals in unraveling mysteries of this extraordinary creation or may be it`s just a big old joke.
He picked us up when were zero Yet we fail to acknowledge our unseen hero Mothers have a visible,tender,sensitive affection Look closer, Fathers give you a special protection His love shines of different quality Silent,masked and Simple at times We realise once we reach our primes He nurtures you,watch you grow in style If you haven’t recognised a father’s love Where were you? All this while
From School admission to hourly classes to stressful bills He seldom buys a new shirt,while getting you fanciful thrills Sacrifice,Substance and Patience Are as true for his remembrance At every hurdle,he was a constant presence He embraces you in every way In his heart,we forever stay
As we encounter uncertainty in life His advice may seem boring but wise Let us all sense our Fatherly love Truest form is acceptance in all color.
As his hair turns grey All he needs is your assurance,not to astray Let us all remember him everyday Happy Father’s Day!!!
‘It was the best of times, It was the worst of times’ said Dickens in not so recent history .As I step outside my black bold archaic gate into this vociferous vulnerable vile environment. Everyday is a battle, yet my longing heart hopelessly searches for another novel breeze but all I see is gloomy glorified mask covered caricatures. I feel I am playing a video game just this time, Mario in me ain’t that brave as the Nintendo one nor I can jump in those crazy clergy bounds.
I watch Lala as he gives a wry smile from his half covered napkin turned mask. Then as I approach a recently converted Covid hospital on my way, an uninterested watchman reads inevitably depressing news on his borrowed brown paper. Yet, he felt content to be alive.May be, we all are. Even this girl who just went past me in her Hercules cycle wearing a designer dock mask. Strange times calls for better luck but I usually get any as I stumble upon 67 years old wrinkle faced uncle on my way to battleground. “Hello, Uncle”, I greet him in not so spontaneous manner “Can you give this medical bill in office” he asks in not that polite demeanor.
Then,without giving any clear warnings,he went about complaining on how he doesnt approve of his son’s second marriage and how he cannot afford to waste a rupee on taking printouts.I listened with patience and at the same time prayed in silence that my bus driver shows up his schumacher skills and reaches my place in no time.Time is such a funny thing yet extremely painful at times.I looked at that tame figure and wondered what life he must have lived.
They say “real character of a man is determined by how he behaves with older people”, but trust me or just face him. It hasn’t been easy at all and he usually meets me at this time to narrate his usual adventures of saving every penny and straightening up his gangster son.
Beeep,Beeep.Oh that sound felt like symphony to my ears.My Bold Bus driver Rajkumar,arrived 2 minuted early today.I greet him with a sense of relief on my face like a prisoner who has been released on bail for a crime he has no clue of.
As I make another unsuccessful attempt to take a peaceful nap,I hear a not so poignant apoetic voice reverberating in my soul.Do employees don’t understand public behavior,the man behind seems to have lost his last cell of sanity and is mindlessly breaking my head with his virgin vain voice.
He seems to be throwing barrage of not so beautiful words to an unlucky one on the other side.I can’t even say anything to Bapu.
I remember old times,when I tried to bring some sense to his madness,he almost ran a bus over and then threatened with a stick.But still as Brutus says,Bapu ji is an honorable man and I,an ignorant fool.
After surviving his bullets of words,I managed to find some solace in my playlist.
I inevitably reached the gate of Fortune unfortunate company.
Bewildered half sleeping belly show stopper,my precious Security man makes an unsuccessful attempt to check my temperature from a device that always shows the same value.As I sense my storky surroundings filled with air of ignorance,insanity and intolerance,I bravely cross the border.
Sappy:Hello sir,Today I saw a snake shed his skin and walk away.
Me(in not so surprised tone):Was it in our lpg unit?
After what has happened in my LPG unit over past few weeks, a snake shedding his skin seemed like any other frivolous and funny event.
I carefully walk to avoid alligators and snake,but I know I will inevitable meet one,once I reach office.
Note:All reference to any creature does intend to hurt both man and the creature.
I almost trip over a well placed rusted grating on my way to my darling den.
I see kaka bringing tea in his usual amicable demeanor. I smile, he smiles and we walk past each other. There are many smile relationships I have developed in my life and I totally love it as I need not speak and there is no conflict.Sometimes,I feel,language has created more problems than it has solved and man has created language.
I sit on my half broken chair and stare curiously at the pyramid of non essential documents.I drink my super immune fluid and smile at the eternal idiosyncrasies of my space.I almost complete a breathe to see Rocky waiting with half torn white paper in his hand.
Rocky:Sir,I have to get sign for the work.
Me:But We don’t have fireman today.
Rocky(in shameless tone):We will do it with utmost safety sir.
Rocky shows no sign of remorse in uttering these syllables. Rocky’s Team specializes in creating glorious Diwali lights scene whenever they undertake any welding job. To listen safety from this innocent evil`s mouth was an insult to the man/woman or whosever created this term.
As Rocky leaves,Prasad enters.There are more memes on Prasad than Donald Trump. Dull Damaged Bathroom Slippers reflects his commitment to minimalism, mockery and stupidity.
Me:You Stay out,I will meet you in the field.
Prasad:Sir,I need a sign
This surely wasn’t a good sign.This work,these characters and on top of that we have Prasad. A Proud Maratha who plays more with welding torch light than a mighty Sword.But then his work kills my Soul.I reminded him again after taking few voluntary breathes.
In unabashed glittering suit, enters our Chhota Don:Chintu.I wish, I could play some music or drums to welcome this infamous man. But then, his usual unabashed voice aren`t music to my sensitive ears.
Chintu:I need a Crane Permit
Me(in a suspicious tone):What did you do last time you had one? You remember right?
I simply cant forget how poetically he broke the nozzle of an exchanger on a scorching Sunday Noon and vanished in polluted air when called to custody.
Me(in an affirmative tone):I will talk to Transport and Wear a N95 next time you enter.
I get up to change my costume from mysterious casual attire to Communal Orange Boiler Dirt Suit. I skip few breathes to check on my lungs, gulp my antibody shake and raise my brow only to witness another imminent disaster.
An Army of barely uncovered unmasked men waiting with permits in their filthy hand.
I politely request them to assert themselves one by one towards the podium. This is a Race I do not want to see.
Before this even begins ,I get another call from Big Boss.
Big Boss: Did the unit start? Coordinate and do it.
I simply have utmost honest hate towards this word: Coordinate. It is such an overused delusional concept just like efficiency or society or Democracy.
Me(frivolous attempt to act serious):Yes sir,I will.
Now, begins another circus of finding rare ravines in my workplace who may be willing to help me with this task. Or in other words :Coordinate.
A journey of million idiosyncrasies begins with a harmless one.