The Creaking Chair ...
The Creaking Chair – Part XXX
29th May 1954
Cat Stevens couldn’t have captured the emotions I feel right now
better than how he did in the song “Father and Son”
Now this song has been and I am sure will be one that would be close to my heart all my life
and for multiple reasons
As I write this today though, I feel pulled the anger and frustration
of the high-pitched voice of the son in the song
and ‘I know I have to go away’
To be frank I should not have much to complaint about
if I look at it from the idealistic way
I have a room to myself at my parent’s house
my privacy doesn’t get overly infringed and I can practically do what I wish to
as long as it is in my own quarters and does not draw enough attention
I get good food and don’t have to worry about cooking it
I can get and borrow all the books I need from the local library
and devour them in my room in my solitude
while I also write down all my pent up thoughts in my multiple diaries
and most importantly I don’t have to see or hear domestic quarrels
or worry about someone snapping up at me for anything and everything I do
which I know quite a few of my friends have seen in their homes
But in spite of all this, there is something which is eating me alive
I don’t know if it is a factor of my age that I see and sense and feel so
or can I attribute it to the days I have spent alone over the last few years
which have turned me into a person which is so distant from what I am at my home
and the dichotomy of my emotions and personalities is too much to cope up with now
but there is a constant sense of suffocation, which is drawing me in everyday slowly but steadily
It’s creating a rift in my head where the distant personality of what I was when I lived in this house for the first time as a kid
and what I have turned out to be now as an adult – independent and different in many ways
they clash and try to resolve the outward expressions of my being in a constant duel
It has also got to do with the presence of my parents
and the lack of communication that we have had for so many years
Ok, to be fair – we do communicate and talk a lot and are there for each other
but in spite of all of that there is a huge chunk of my personality which they are unaware of
and it has to be a two way lack of communication
while they possibly never left the time and space of this house when I was an innocent kid
and life was pleasant and they were young and had their ambitions alive
I on the other hand, have never taken the initiative to truly introduce the new me to them
for the fear of conflicting principles and ideals, or simply to avoid the effort of explanation
but the conflict in my head due to all of this now seems to be reaching an extreme point
Time flows differently when I am alone in a different city
and it is weird – because even now I am alone in my room
but the underlying thought in my head is aware that my mother is about to set up supper
and this being the and off day for me (there is a different story of how everyday is an off for me but they don’t know about it, yet)
the expectation is that I should have the supper together
but I am in the flow right now, letting out my emotions and thoughts,
breaking my routine of a night time diary entry and rather during it right after my bath
(and that is special and exceptional for me)
but I can feel the hands of uncalled for pressure in my head to stop this and go and have supper with them, smile and make small talks
all the time craving for the silence of this room when I can be the real me, without any judgement or analysis of how I sit, or what I am about to say, or how I am feeling
This over obsession with my wellbeing and at times the worry of if I am ok,
it is unnatural and unhealthy, not only for my folks but it has been for all of us
and the lack of communication I promised myself post the famous bust up I had when I was in my undergrad has ensured that our relationship also doesn’t live up to the real potential it could
Living alone in a different city, time goes slower and much more peaceful
because the daily routines are not sacrosanct and there is fluidity to life
which makes life worth living and exploring, because that is the true me
unbound from the rules that we create for ourselves and hinder our growth
or stop us from evolving and seeing the world in a new light, when we can
I must stop though now, and come back and finish this when post my supper
I guess my dad was wait for the weekends to be the only time in the week when he can have a meal along with me
This both makes me reek under pressure, guilty and privileged all at the same time
And as is the case most of the times, the flow is gone now as I sit again to complete this entry
All I know is that I have to go away …
~ Ashk
P.S. – This was the time when I had given up my daily stable job and was pretending to be working on an IT project to my folks, while I closed the room and was trudging away doing my side art gig
The Creaking Chair – Part XXIX
08th July 1999
I have been told I suffer from an elevated sense of narcissism
and I don’t think I can deny the allegations
you decide to agree and accept things when they are repeated
from multiple loved ones and time over time
I think I even get a sense of pride in the title, if it can be called so
it goes with being a narcissist I am told – a circular cycle
I have also tried to dig deeper into the reason of why it should be so
I am otherwise quite a humble character
if I were a part of a movie or a character in a book
I would be one of those on the edge characters
those whom you don’t etch themselves in your mind when you finish the book
but who linger on the periphery, with a few moments clearly remembered
But I digress from the point and linger on my own narcissism, again
No surprises..
what I want to write about is an introspection
which you would have guessed by now is on my narcissism
Yesterday I was speaking to Atul
and in the backdrop of the fact that the world is going through a shit storm
it was a conversation I had picked up to check on him
and his grandson who was unwell and in the throes of COVID
it should have been a one way conversation with an attempt to unburden the worries
“get some of the pain and frustrations out of the system by talking it out” as they say
and my part in the act was to lend a genuine ear, listen intently and support where I could
no rocket science
It was going on those tracks, till that point when Atul spoke about the fear of being useless
and not being able to provide enough help when the family needed it
the realization that we have grown old and were we a liability more than support
do our children feel more scared about our wellbeing than feeling a sense of comfort
it’s a thought that can wreak your mind – at our age, it does
but that line of thought was not the seed to be watered by me then and there
it was about Atul and his worries and I was supposed to be passive
But how do you maintain an air of neutrality in your head
when you are going through the same doubts and fears
and when that happens how do your prevent the stories from getting mingled,
fears becoming one and slowly but surreptitiously the narrative turning to your own life
so I guess it not just about me being narcissistic, but the fact that it is human nature
that is how I am justifying it to me tonight for a peaceful sleep
and in all fairness, we all have spend hours cribbing together about our life problems
when we were young and dumb, why should it change when we grow old and wiser as they say
~ Ashk
P.S. – Of late, I have realized I am being lazy in my entries. I build the background and hover on the edge of what happened, but don’t really go into the details when the time comes. What am I afraid of, I wonder!
P.P.S. – Atul lost his grandson 2 weeks post our talks. I am meeting him today to raise a toast to him. I hope I have the right words to say to Atul
The Creaking Chair – Part XXVIII
9th November 1988
When I was
a kid, I was rarely exposed to any foreign language movie or play
we came from a humble background and were just catching up to the so called ‘upper
middle class’
and we had certain values which we adhered to and certain unsaid ways of living
that changed when I moved to Delhi for a couple of years
for my first tryst with life as an adult – that is when I could relate to the movies
& plays I saw
this was also the time when I had fought with my father in my effort to join
the armed forces
That was
the beginning of a curve in my life that took me to twisted routes
of ups and downs, of joys and sorrows, of adventures and misfortunes
but none of them did I regret or feel sorry about even today
had I not taken that route, I would possibly not have spent my time in Paris or
Madrid
I may never have met Paul or Jamie or Harshita or Vani ; I can go on with the
list
all treasures in my memory vault
I explored the
emotion of love and the tickle in the stomach that comes with it
during that phase of life; and I think all these experiences turned me into a
hopeless romantic
This was the time I was relishing in the absolute joy of writing
and all my amoral interests used to ask me – ‘why don’t you send me love
letters?’
How I could never explain to them that I always wrote them love letters
but never attached the sentimentality of that name with what I wrote for them
Love letters need not be an event I always believed,
just like love was not meant to be celebrated only on the Valentine’s day.
I
specifically remember the debate I had with Venessa on a sun kissed morning in Madrid
that’s when for the only time I tried to explain how my love letters worked
They were hidden in the notes I left purposefully in the books I borrowed from
her
I know she hated any scribbles on her book – she believed books were sacred
but I always marked in pencil passages that was us, and scribbled my thoughts besides
them
My love
letters were written in small passages when I used to chat with her
The text messages we shared were full of hints of what I could say in plain
sight to start with
which then moved to more overt expressions of adoration and desires
then, of course, there were phases of frustration – when I felt my words were
not registering
or when she could not listen what I was talking about or maybe ignored the real
meaning
I would never know if that was on purpose or because of her inherent fears
But then
the emotions finally settled in
like sunlight falling from an open window in a darkened room
these hidden text became more about care and support
of knowing when she would get angry and when she would want to vent out
knowing when to push the buttons and when to stop sharing my not-so-funny jokes
of knowing how to make her smile and doing it even though I knew she may not
respond
or decide not to acknowledge my efforts to make her day a little lighter
Of all the
miniature letters I shared with her in this way
the ones which I would cherish are on those days when she was just her
not agitated after a grueling day at work or her struggles with her side gig
and definitely not on days when her spirits were high
No, it had to be the days when she was just herself
for those were the days, when my hints and my covert expressions of love made
their mark
whether she acknowledged with a smile or a diversion in conversation was
irrelevant
those were the days when I was making progress in my pursuit for her companionship
And yet I
was sure she craved for a love letter, if and when we openly accepted our relationship
while she always said that she wanted relationships to not kill the individuality
and yet she was fiercely possessive
how did I know that and of other things she was – I possibly wrote in my year
end memoir for the year 1962
~ Ashk
P.S. – The only time I did write a love
letter was a 12-page note filled with poetry and excerpts from our first chats on
a hand sketched paper backdrop
P.P.S. – Maybe the reason I never wrote an actual love letter post that was to hold the purity of the memory of that letter in my heart
The Creaking Chair – Part XXVII
17th October 1988
‘Of
evenings that smell of you’
Often times I have written about heavy clouds in an evening sky
and many a times of winter or summer evenings
all coming with their own character of restlessness, calm or anger
but there have been only a few instances when I have written of a casual evening
one that is uncharacterized by anything unusual, rather is surprisingly plain
As I remember now, such evenings belonged to you,
beautiful in it’s own serene ways
And such
evenings were divided in two phases in my life
one was the phase when I spent those evenings with you
whether you were physically present around me
or we were separated by distance, yet connected by spirit
and the other phase is one with memories
of you, of a distant me and of us
of reminiscence and stories and letters on the balcony
But most of
all I remember the evenings when I felt restless
and you getting out of your evening bath would come to sit besides me and my chai
and the fact that your smell made me aware of your presence around me
how that calmed my troubled mind
I don’t we used to speak much during those evenings
but it was time well spent on the verandah
looking at the children playing in the garden and letting time flow in peace
Even as a
kid I used to dislike twilight
you remember one time, we even had a heated debate on how I don’t “hate”
twilight
rather how I “disliked” it for reasons you could never understand
There is such a sense of sadness watching the sun go down every evening
after shining with all its glory – symbolizing that time runs away – sooner or
later
and possibly it excited in me my fear of time running out
maybe that was the reason why I never enjoyed twilight
It may also
have been because of how I missed playing cricket in the evenings as a kid
or the fact that I started sleeping around 5 PM and waking up to dusk at around
6.30 PM
or it may also have been due to the timing of the calls with her – she would
know which her am I talking about
I started using that conversation as a crutch to get over my sense of
loneliness during those days
and then we stopped talking making my evenings even drabber
but with you it was always different, we were never addicted to each other
we lived completely with each other – I guess that was the difference
And maybe
that is why I do not write so much about such evenings
~ Ashk
P.S. – In a
weird way, the best part of the day for me has always been after the twilight ends
and the night engulfs you into its mystique
The Creaking Chair – Part XXVI
07th April 1988
‘A
commentary on struggles and injustice’
this was the pamphlet in my hand
as I entered the market place in Toulouse on this Sunday afternoon
I was out to buy some croissant and wine for an evening of recluse
in my immaculately neatly kept apartment
a fetish I had developed recently and was slowly developing great pride in
It was
supposed to be a dialogue followed by a rendition of Warsaw concerto
and the orations would focus on the themes of
‘human spirit and resilience’, ‘the fundamental nature of the oppressor”
and ‘the anatomy of a revolt’
to my Sunday slumbered mind these sounded quite grand
but then the name of one of the speakers stood out to me
We had dated for sometime during my stay at Marseille
and I realized how organically had we drifted apart
The fact
that the passage of time between us was so vivid in my head
was a revelation for me – I had barely thought about her for the last 5 months
and it had been only 5 months since we bid our farewells to each other
The name reminded me of how we had met – on a metro reading the same book
‘Incest – by Marquis de Sade’ – it was one of those unplanned book pick
ups for me
may be it was providence playing its subtle hands
I was almost finished reading the book and she asked me while we sat in a café
that evening
what did I think about the book and I remember word by word what I had said
“The book for me started on a note
that shook me out of comfort. Reading it induced raw un-supplemented emotions
of fear, love and pity, slowly building up to anger and disgust. The best part
of the narrative for me was the dialogue with the priest - provocative and questioning
societal norms with logic and not emotions. There was something raw about the
entire book”
And she
laughed whole heartedly at my comments
How little you know about the struggles of human emotions
as if you don’t want to touch the real surface and be content with what floats
on water
abashed and angered – I let loose a discourse on the genesis of human emotions
& our responses
passionately peeling away each layer with great care and little remorse
by the time I had finished, we were near the Old harbour somewhere in Le Panier
and the night goaded us along towards the sea and to many nights of passionate
debates on human
emotions, the justice of struggles and of equally passionate
love making
So when I
saw her name on that pamphlet I knew I would be pulled to the auditorium
to listen her speaking with the same audacious ferocity on a subject she adored
by the time I entered the venue, it was already twilight and my heart was
pregnant with anticipation
of possible recognition, of awkward silences, of uncomfortable laughter and
possible reunions
for someone who had just finished writing a section of romantic prose, nothing
was an impossibility
2 hours
later when I left the building to a moonless night
I was troubled and knew the writer in me would be awake for the next few days
trying to pen a soliloquy on the struggling emotions of the forsaken spectator
in a revolt
I felt a thousand thoughts brewing in my head on the real motives of struggles
and revolutions
of propagandas and high collared talks of reforms and need for change in
mentalities
of the stories being told of the victims in a tone of superiority rather than
empathy
like a trophy being displayed upon the deliverance of a speech which serves
none but self-aggrandization
Two hours of
the discourse pulled me away from my hopes of a romantic reunion
and rather edged me towards a shady escape for the fears of being spotted by
the lady
As I sat through, I was slowly transformed from a placid listener of a commentary to the oppressor in the play.
I was the ringmaster of oppression in the commentary, the person who grew in
power by deceit
I had become the example amongst the multitude of generalized aggrievements – without reason or action
And all for the purpose of a proof of a paper written without consent about the
struggling emotions of the victim at the hands of the oppressor
But did I
have a say in the act of becoming an unsuspecting villain in the play of a
revolution-in-making
was it even a necessity when I had passed the audition without my knowledge,
for representation of a character that I might have resembled
but in the long run it should all make sense, for the achievement of equanimity
would demand a few sacrifices on both ends
and the liberals and neo-liberals ready to salvage what would remain of the
aftermath
~ Ashk
P.S. – I did end up taking a bus to Marseille to have a cup of coffee at the same café that night for closures
P.P.S. – If you want still more understanding of what I really meant, my
discourse on “The faux-perils of the perceived oppressor” was inspired by that
night in the auditorium
The Creaking Chair – Part XXV
12th September 1990
There are
days when your body and mind craves for a fight
it can be in a brawl in a bar
or a war of words and emotions with your dear ones
but there are days when you just crave for some kind of a outlet
of course you don’t want to really hurt anyone
or get hurt yourself – physically or emotionally
but you want to have that rush of adrenaline to cleanse your system
The feeling
is like that of a rusty door frame
the hinges are crying out to come out – to break into dusty forms
and yet holding on too afraid of the sound of a falling door
as if it would break the slumber of a sleeping giant in the room
and that can not be good, is it?
The dichotomy
of emotions at that moment,
it’s like the sound of wind slowly gaining speed before a storm
they say silence is the deepest before a storm
I disagree, I think it is after the storm that the silence really kicks in
when you realize the magnitude and reality of the destruction caused
before the storm is a sense of fear of what may become of the next few hours
you circle around that fear looking for something to hold on to
hopefully a belief or a faith that would not be blown away in the storm deserting
you
The same
sense prevails sometimes when you are looking for a fight
there is an unease inside you knowing that you are skirting on danger
relationships are delicate bonds that tangle at the slightest strain
the art lies in knowing when to stop when the debate kicks in
otherwise by the time you realize the knots are too string already for any
respite
but there would be days when you would have the craving
to give into the dark side and join forces with the Sith Lord
I have a
few of these skirmishes with friends and family over the years
it’s a blessing when they know your nerves are on the edge
and they ignore the venom on your tongue
but there are times when your anger needs to be on display
for you to be confident more than for the others to be mindful
the fine line draws or erases itself depending on how much you let it burn
though you
~ Ashk
P.S. – I decided to start writing a few letters for Sahil. ‘WTD’ is what I am going to call it – Wisdom Thought Doodle.
P.P.S. – Star Trek is any day superior to Star Wars (Unpopular opinion but truth!)
The Creaking Chair - Part XXIV
14th October 1949
Habits form
due to practice
but hobbies are not developed; it’s like having a feeling where they call to
you
that’s what I believe
have you ever heard someone say, I am on a 21 day course to develop a hobby !
And there is no specific time when a hobby may prop its lure in your head
and the trigger can be many
for me my charm for cycling is one of those hobbies which happened to me
I am not
yet a professional level cyclist
but glad I am getting good day by day
today is special because I hit the 100 Km mark for the first time
And when I sat to write about it I realized the strongest impressions were of
the last mile
The last 10 Km gives you all kind of sensations
I am not even getting into the famed last mile stretch that the marathoners
feel
thankfully, I did not feel any of those life changing, hard hitting epiphanies
or the absolute struggles of thinking how would I finish this infinite last
stretch
to be frank, I don’t think I had the feeling that I would give up
For me, the
emotions were more of a memory reel
drawing parallels to some of the most esoteric experiences of my life
the wind rustling through your ears inside the helmet reminded me
of listening to Opera music when I am trying to concentrate
Also this was the stretch which I enjoyed the most because I was not
concentrating on the miles covered anymore
I was looking at the scenery around, the trees and the hues of the sky
Guess because I had finally accepted that I would end up finishing my 100 Km
& not give up
the weight of self expectation had gone down & I started to look at it as a
joy rather than a task
There was also
a bit of palpable anxiety in my throat and stomach
don’t think it’s weird when I don’t say anxiety in the heart, this is on
purpose
this was more of a nervous enthusiasm mixed with a sense of fear
think of a countryside in wales or Scotland
now imagine that you had a wonderful day ling drive enjoying the beauty of
nature,
the sunshine, the warm mist of a evening pregnant with laughter of your beloved
besides you
this was the feeling which you get post such a day when twilight settles
and you have reached a plateau overlooking a valley with an orange hued sunset
that feeling of how fast the day has gone, warming your heart for what a
wonderful time it was
and that nostalgia already settling in making you fear the end of the evening –
the moment sun would drop into oblivion in a few moments
Cycling is
also dichotomous in that sense
when you are in the act, you are concentrating on completing the next km &
then the km in an infinite loop
you would feel the troubles of your daily life, would be lost because your
entire focus is on ensuring you reach the finish line
but once you start enjoying the process, you reach a meditative stage
when you start to reflect on life as your brain sending reminders to you to keep
a track on the kms to go from time to time
~ Ashk
P.S. – The feeling that came to me when I crossed the 100 Km line was that of being in my school Chemistry lab performing salt detection test and the colour changed in the beaker changed to yellow !!
P.P.S. – I need to gather my thoughts more around how does it feel for the first 90 km as well for a complete memoir
The Creaking Chair – Part XXIII
04th
April 1991
stumbling from one gig to another
like I had only a day to live and I had to achieve all that I could in that day
and yet I had not reached a stage where I was mastering all that I was doing
or anyway close to it for that matter
It was a race in my head that I was running more than anything else
so many authors had said that write as much as you can when you are young,
you would thank yourself later
so I was following the route of quantity
I set targets for myself and in that rut my focus wavered from the depth of what was penned down
I should have spent more time to let the poetry settle in my head
before it even had the far-fetched chance to settle on a piece of paper
so most of the work from that time was uncooked;
but at least there was quantity for me to prune later
restarted teaching myself guitar over the weekends through an online course (never works !)
Last time I had started learning guitar, it was more out of peer pressure
It was the cool thing to do, I had a group that played guitar and I was gullible
Hence the classes were more of a drag and the drudgery of practice was too mundane for my liking
I was young and wanted results fast – so jumped from one teen player to another
for quick lessons and chords that could be easily memorized
but this time I wanted to soak in the process – go slow – go through the drag
but all in a day’s work ! Regular practice without any show off moves was still too painful for me
and I wanted to get back to robotics and programming
that was the hip thing – if you have watched any sci-fi American series
there was that one guy who could hack through any computer, break any cipher or make any gadget
I wanted to be that cool guy (too)
so I started with my pet project of an automated personal assistant
and guess what I named it – Jarvis
I had to set up my own server, create my own home automation tools
and have my own voice controlled responsive assistant
Sketching – because when I was a kid, I used to like that art of expression and I had a few decent strokes I could strike, never really learnt it with rigor though
Singing – There was this ever looming pet project with 3 friends of mine (all separately) where I had to start an online channel or create a movie where I would give voice over
Language – I started learning French thrice ! and I had wanted to be conversationally verse in Spanish & Mandarin as well, while I wanted to be able to read Sanskrit
And then there were a couple of other side gigs I wanted to do work wise
turns out I was more scared than I was driven
I was scared of the number 30
and I was scared that I had crossed that dreaded no of years of my life
and I may not even have started on the journey of what I can and must do
that fear was driving me like a maniac in every direction
to search and look for that one source of inspiration that would put me on the right track
Some of these activities were a defense mechanism to know that I am actively doing ‘something’
I was not completely wrong in the way I looked at life
that fear drove me to experiment and try new stuff
it made me hungry to learn and never settle
to go to new places, to meet new people, to do something new each day (or at least try)
but it also makes me realize now, I was running shallow
first the fact that I was running – I had to slow down
and enjoy the art I was trying to explore rather than do this too while thinking of the next gig
and second, I was dipping my fingers too thin into each of my attempts
the fact that I had too many options I was trying, meant I was not afraid to fall
and I was not driven enough to be devastated if I did not deliver the best masterpiece
so I was always “Just there” but never “Wow, I have arrived”
but I wish someone was there to tell me to slow down
life will pass you however hard you try to stop it
the only way to live life is to stop by and soak the sunshine
and get drenched in rain on a windy day
then use the memory of those moments to inspire your art (slowly while enjoying the process)!
The Creaking Chair – Part XXII
Pratishtha
visited us today after so many years
Kamal had no idea she was coming
It seems it was Veena who had received her call last week
and had decided to keep it a surprise for Kamal ;
My son was, let’s say more than surprised to see Pratistha sitting in the
living room
as he came back from his evening bicycle ride
boy, he was flustered
First he
looked at me, with the same innocent face
like the one he made some 17-18 years back when I first got to know about Pratistha
and him
I was more angry at him for not telling me that something was going on
rather than the fact that he was dating someone
I had always been cool about it, and I always thought if he ever gets serious
he would tell me
but then he went and told his mom and she unwittingly told me
I was angry at that betrayal than anything else
But how
flustered was Kamal today
it was nostalgic to see him behave like a young college kid who comes back from
the playground
and sees that his crush is sitting in his house in front of his parents
only in this case, he was petrified that it was Veena
for a moment I think he thought, she was angry
and he wanted to whisk Pratistha away and ask her what was she thinking coming in
here
They had
dated for almost 3 years during their graduation
and were dotingly in love – or that’s what they thought
she was a senior to him in his class of engineering
and he was quite the nerd of his batch
their favourite thing was the stroll on the park besides the Jawahar Bridge in
rains
and did he think I did not know of his visit for ‘robotics project’ to her
house every second week
It took him
some time to recover and get back to his senses
the realization dawning on his face with relief spreading over his entire being
He had told Veena all about all of his rencontres d’amour in life
and she was having the guilty pleasure of watching him behave like a college
kid once again
All said and done, Kamal will open the 15 year old bottle of wine he has
preserved for special occasions
~Ashk
P.S. – Kamal thinks no one in the college knew, but his story of waltzing with Pratistha in the park besides the Jawahar Bridge when it rained was quite a story !
P.P.S. – I remember the day when I (who could never shake a leg) waltzed on a bridge on a rainy day with my love.
funny story – she was super jealous when she got to know I had waltz on a bridge in rain with my first girlfriend in my graduation days and never let her make me dance anytime! I had to make it right
The Creaking Chair – Part XXI
Sahil has
been very quiet for the last few days
generally he used to come back from school and be all chirpy
he used to keep pestering me to listen to what happened
what was the latest trend in the playground
which technology were the kids of the new generation drooling over
and of course which girl is he starting to have a crush on
I am like
the cool grandpa
something which Kamal is often jealous off
but he has to raise his game if you wants to compete with me
Just because he is my son does not mean I let him win easily
especially when it’s about being the BFF of my grand child
Sahil told me what BFF means
to this gig thing that they do
it is just like the jamming session that I used to do when I was young
but they do a lot of things there
from singing and music to debates and someone also showcases his paintings on and off
reminded me of ‘Dead Poet’s society’
and I think he was just over enthusiastic to have called me
he later felt quite relieved that I had told him I would not be coming
and on the edge and jumpy
in my experience, that happens either when you have a solid crush on someone
or you are being picked on by someone who prides himself to be a bully
and I have a feeling that since he is not speaking to me about it
it must be a bully. Sahil is tough but he needs someone to speak to
I am torn, yeah even at my age and with all the so called wisdom
should I speak or let Kamal know about it and let him speak to his son
I may have played some part in the pranks as well
but then it was innocent, it was not as horrible as some of the stuff I hear these days
and we heard of nothing ‘bad’ that could have happened
so I guess we were not crossing the line
but then when I was bullied I also always smiled so that no one would hear my stories
I think best I focus my energies on Sahil and how to help him
maybe I could also call on Kristen and check how has his Harvard degree helped him - what a snob !
P.S. – Amongst all the names I was
called when I was bullied, the one I still laugh at today is ‘Sabrina’. How
that video found on the internet with misplaced identity spread through in my
graduation !!
The Creaking Chair - Part XX
21st February 1986
I
have hit a ‘Writer’s block’
I have absolutely no doubt about it
it’s been 6 days and I am stuck with the same 3 lines
no new rhythm in my thoughts and no cadence in my words
It’s like being stuck in a passage where you don’t know which side to go
I am not sure if I have to let go of this thought
and move on to writing something new
or should I persevere with this and be patient
22nd February 1986
I went to a
coffee shop today
thinking maybe that would help
looking at strangers sitting and sipping their Mocha and Cappuccinos
engaging and thoughtless conversation with a random stranger
would help I thought to stimulate my grey matter
as if they would involuntarily push me forward in my endeavor
to pen down the next 3 lines
and then maybe I can come back here again and wait for another stranger
willing enough to come & sit by on the empty chair in front of me
and I would write another 3 lines that night
23rd
February 1986
I have
bolted myself shut and promised to myself
that I would only leave this room when I complete this poem
The day has not been so productive, but maybe the night would have my
creativity flowing
How do these authors end up producing novels on a trot
like it is some kind of an assembly line
I remember someone close to me used to tell me
how she envied that I could write so effortlessly
if only she saw me now
24th
February 1986
After behaving
like a maniac for 3 days, I am back to my senses
Vishal called – someone told him how stupid I was acting – I have a suspicion I
know who told him
Anyway what he said made absolute sense –
“Poetry
needs time to precipitate – it’s not another item on your To-Do list,
stop treating it like one & give it some respect !!
It’s like an angel descending from a higher plane,
it would take its own time and if you rush it, all you would get is a glimpse
of its beauty
Just like rushing a poetry would give you only a glimpse of its skeletal thought
and never of it’s true character”
I will
sleep in peace tonight,
Maybe I would end up naming this verse as ‘Writer’s Block’
~ Ashk
P.S. – I did end up completing “The Writer’s Block”. Go read it in the withered diary with a faded horse on its cover.
P.P.S. – That diary was a gift from one of my favourite couples. I wonder how many gifts to me were diaries !! I must have been an easy person to identify a gift for !
The Creaking Chair – Part XIX
4th April 1998
I have a
very strong will power
over years, I have been able to resist a lot of my urges
those which would have caused me much trouble
and even those which were more innocent
But being able to control my desires so that they don’t consume me
has always been something I have prided myself on
And well of
course, this is painting a broad stroke
the picture has a lot of finer details
times when I have completely given into my urges
even those which have definitely put me into a lot of trouble
and also joyful stories if I look back at them now
I am no saint, right? Remember the five night brawl in the winters of my 33rd
birthday?
But then there
is one pleasure which I could never give up on
the absolute joy of eating sweets – and I know some of you would never get what
I mean
you need to truly admire the release of happy hormones in you
when you put that morsel of ultimate bliss in your mouth
I had a record in the house where I had eaten a kilogram of rasgulla in one go
how astounded was my sister !
But the
reason I am going on babbling about this
is because I now need to reduce my intake of sweets
is what my doctor has told me
it’s like telling a life long smoker to stop smoking
ain’t gonna happen !
so my days of hiding things in the neck of my table top vase are back
good that at least Sahil is on my side
we already have a plan
~ Ashk
P.S. – If you have not tried yet, you must eat kala jamun made in the shape of a jalebi. Can’t explain why but the taste is just so much better than the regular Kala Jamun !
The Creaking Chair - Part XVIII
24th August 1999
Today
evening was a surprise for me
Kamal came and sat besides me on the sofa
and slowly he rest his head on my lap and lay down there
Though he makes it a point that he spends at least an hour with me daily
either during my morning ritual of reading the newspaper
or the evening time when we have the badminton matches
he rarely shows any sign of such sentimentality
To start with I was worried
I did not know what was going through his mind
but I knew he was tired, I could sense that in the way his body weighed on my legs
it was as if he was letting go of all his the weight he was carrying
I started to speak, but then I saw his eyes were closed
like he was in thinking of something old
reliving a memory I should not infringe on
He has been
troubled for sometime now
I guess its been a couple of months – it shows on his face
and the way he goes inside his shell when he is troubled
even as a child he used to be highly impressionable
but selective on whose impressions he wanted to imbibe
rarely did I see him shouting at his friends or cousins
and I could feel the weight of all of those years slowly letting off as he lay
on my lap
Last time
when he felt so heavy was when he had decided to quit his work
that’s when he took to follow his passion – or that’s what they call it in
today’s world
It had taken me 14 years to make him follow my pattern
one of choosing life and its mysteries over the ties of the worlds around
and he had told me how it was totally worth it
our conversation on how seriously we humans take our work
and how much of our life we give to it – knowingly & unknowingly
still remains as one of my most cherished memories – for it changed me & him
for good
Him, because
it made him realize what he was missing out on
it gave him the courage to do things which he was otherwise fearful to do
dreams he was otherwise fearing to dream
Me, because it made me realize how I was right when I took that plunge 27 years
ago
and it made me go deeper into the reasons I did it
then it was more for to be called ‘the one who took the plunge’
now I realize it had a much deeper reason – something revolving around self-discovery
~Ashk
P.S. – Kamal had one of those days when he just wanted to let go and rest and he wanted to remember his childhood – my lap was the only memory which he could touch and transport himself back.
P.P.S. – It was a new experience for a son to watch his grown up dad lying like that on the laps of his old man..
The Creaking Chair - Part XVI
15th
June 1999
it started as a throat infection & then started having chills & fever
lasted 2 weeks, but now I feel better
but these days took me back to the times when I was writing my PhD thesis
There were so many topics I had shortlisted
and one of them which I had let go was “The true value of time”
I found the entire idea of having a currency called ‘time’ quite absurd
and fascinating at the same time
how it controls everything we do – it has possibly the most control over our lives than anything else does
We invented time to ensure we have more focus & structure to our days
But how it confused the hell out of us – the entire conundrum of what happened before Big Bang
which they say is when time began
“The True Value of Time”
If you knew you had only 2 hours of free time before your shift at work started
you would know what to do with it
and more importantly your loved ones around would know what to do with that time
you would play, talk and ‘spend quality time’ together
You can either worry about it and waste the time you have in the present
hating the fact that you don’t know when would you be called
or you can relax and let not time take a grasp of your mind and stay free till you can
I sensed anxiety in Sahil’s voice during the first week
he was fearing time, or possibly, the lack of it
just for the records maybe..
The Creaking Chair - Part XV
30th November 1986
The Creaking Chair – Part XIII
The Creaking Chair – Part XII
The Creaking Chair – Part XI
By now I was quite determined to find out what had really happened,
I still decided to revisit the memory lane of some of the most wonderful years of my life
It is the second day and I am in the attic again to read from where I left yesterday
P.S. – to read about the day Archit’s mid-night accident & his temporary memory loss, go to 19th September 1952
- Ashk
Creaking Chair - Part IX
Last night I could not sleep properly,
Creaking Chair - Part VII
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