I have become a social nightmare (not that I was ever not).. I cannot stop talking. The words just keep spitting forth. I see myself from outside and instruct my hands to cover my mouth, my tongue to quit forming words, my mind to go blank.. but as if in a trance none of them heed.. and the torrent of words and thoughts just gushes forth. I realize that it has probably something to do with my not having written for a while. And so here I am. A lot of water has flown under the bridge since I last wrote.
I took a break from my architecture job with Vandeberg in September last year.. and then a getaway to Europe and India. In London I caught up with my baby niece who was traumatised by the very sight of me.. India was phenomenal as always.. more so since I was travelling with some of my closest friends from New York.. and we were there during the festival and marriage season.
Calcutta was a bizarre event.. without my uncle’s car with a flag attached to its front quarters and a flashing red light and siren attached to its top, I doubt if we would have made it from the railway station to home in a day. These were similarly responsible for our getting a very intimate ‘darshan’ with the goddess Kali at the holiest of holies. We were led through a maze of corridors into the sanctum sanctorum of the Kali Temple.. human traffic on either side was cordoned off.. and suddenly through the haze we found ourselves face to face with the three eyed goddess and her massive golden tongue. Before I had the time or the wits to feel sufficiently religious or in awe, the high priest banged my head against the idol with one hand.. split open a coconut over her tongue with the other.. and lo.. I was blessed with holy coconut water directly from the goddesses mouth.. Moments later we were whizzed out of her presence after giving up a fortune to the various levels of priests who barred our way.. we had achieved a feat that many faithfuls would have given many years of rebirth for. The escape from Calcutta was equally dramatic. After missing a train from one station, we made our way to the other in a similar fashion. We reached with twelve minutes to spare to board it only to realize that a major Bollywood movie was being shot on the platforms.. needless to say all the railway functionaries were involved in its making. My uncle with supreme indifference called up the powers that be.. and soon we were escorted to our berths on the train while the movie personnel took a breather.
Diwali at home in Delhi was spectacular. The food.. the fireworks.. my family.. and our uninitiated New York family were a delightful masala mix. Then onto the Camel Fair in the middle of the desert at the holy city of Pushkar in Rajasthan. I was in awe in my own land.. once again. An indescribable hike to the top of one of the hills surrounding the city.. As the sun set in the dusty horizon we could see a small oasis lake surrounded by camels, horses, goats, cattle, Bedouin tents, carts to as far as the eye could see.. and the dust raised from trails as more came to join.. atop the hill, of course, a small temple.. with the kindly priest blessing one and all who came his way. To the sounds of the evening prayer to the lord.. we ate puri and sabzi as the sun set in the desert haze behind the hills opposite.. while below we could see a thousand fires being lit as man and animal got ready for the evening festivities. That night and the next days were magic. I have rarely seen a town as cosmopolitan.. probably all nationalities and appearances found representation.. and they were all in a strange harmony.. it was almost as if they were in a trance.. it was so terribly futuristic that surely Star Wars took its inspiration from it.. by the time we made our way out of this kaleidoscopic world, we knew everything there is to know on how to buy a camel and how we might camouflage to make it look younger than it is.. how to bargain down a box of colours from the very absurd price of 5000 rupees to 500.. and promising ourselves that we would definitely not get sucked into staying in a shitty hotel again.
Then onto Jaipur.. we rode on elephant back to the top of Amber Fort.. all the elephants had the sniffles.. and with their long noses were in a perfect position to spread the spray.. with the result that we reached the top drenched in elephant snot.. (I highly recommend a raincoat on your next elephant ride during the allergy season). A hike up and atop the fortress walls which followed the steepest ascent up the surrounding hills proved very ambitious. Our friend realized that she was covered in cockleburs from passing through the dense shrubbery.. on reaching the top sansed her clothing and proceeded to take out all the burrs from her clothes.. little realizing that we were on one of the highest hills in Jaipur.. and the entire city had a vision of a crazy lady from the West shedding all her clothes and then proceeding to pick on them. As we made our way forward we came face to face with a monkey.. at which point the aforementioned lady (with clothes on now) jumped off a 21 foot drop and begged her boy friend and I to do likewise. Showing great determination Alexi (boyfriend) looked the monkey in the eye.. took up a stone in his hand and marched forward. The monkey just bounded up his merry way.. we had merely been blocking his path. The ‘threat’ had been our own creation.. in the evening Alexi and I elbowed our ricksahawallas into the back seat and cycled our extremely unnerved crew to a Bollywood movie at that obscenely decadent theatre.. the Raj Mandir.. built by the king.
And then Agra.. for that very important ingredient in all Indian adventures.. the wedding. Minal and James tied the knot with the Taj Mahal as a backdrop.. and how could we not be there? Amid the major confusion which pervades all Indian weddings (the brother in law got forgotten at the hotel hours away from the venue).. we celebrated with family and friends from the orient and the occident dressed in full Indian regalia.
The return and time in Delhi was a blurr as always.. family.. friends.. food.. business.. and a quick trip to Bombay (invigorating as always).. I caught up with one of my oldest friends.. she the mother of two beautiful girls.. and it hit home that my days when I could pass off as eighteen are slowly receding.. time to move on..
My cousin sister got married in the midst of a whole riot of brothers and sisters flown in from various parts of the globe.. a misbehaving female horse and wedding decorations that could never seem right to my very harried aunts..
In the meanwhile my elder brother, Sam.. not to be left behind had decided that he wished to jump into the marriage wagon as well. Great times with my future sister in law.. who’s infinite charm is indefinitely heightened by her spontaneous spirit and laughter.
And then New York.. back to reality and unpaid bills. But how I had missed it..
.. in the meanwhile visa complications kept me away from India from the wedding of my young brother, Sidharth.. I realize that I should have been born in an age when the Star Trek kind of instant travel was a reality.. in this day and age it is surprising how many barriers there are to the free flow of information and humanity..
But I have not been stationary.. I joined work at very very large architectural corporation last week. I officially became an architectural whore. I realize now that my life had been very removed from the ordinary until now.. corporate America is a machine.. You are a machine.. it is so regimented that it makes you feel absurd about being spontaneous. How can architecture or any sense of creativity possibly exist in such an environment?.. I have literally become another brick in the wall.. everyone arrives dot at 9:00 (ah those days when I toodled into work at 11:02).. gets up together at 12:00 for lunch.. sits down together at 1:00.. and then gets up again at 5:30 (sharp) to leave.. I laugh and a thousand heads look my way.. I joke and make small talk and Carmen the receptionist calls me absurd.. I walk around socking feet and people give me the look over.. it is a factory to kill all ideas and thought.. it is a concentration camp to wilt even the littlest of sense of creativity.. It is amazing.. it is phenomenal.. this is the creative genius which is in charge of some of the most prosperous clients in the land.. I am a drone now.. devoid of sensitivity.. passion.. thought.. creativity.. is this why they are paying me such big bucks.. does not the management realize that they are stifling my very genius by this regimentation and everyone else’s.. just today I got the evil eye for designing what for me is ‘natural’.. but I realized that I was supposed to design regimented as well.. the two wings of this project are similar but not quite.. and so I went all out.. but I was rapped on the knuckles because I did not make the two sides look and ‘feel’ absolute mirror images. Have I become too used to freedom?.. I probably deserve the rap on the knuckles.. can a hundred and seventy people be wrong?.. if one has a passion one can never lose it.. maybe I need to discover a new direction.. it is interesting to be there as a social experiment.. but who knows how long I will last?.. my friends are placing bets already. Knowing me I will probably explode and explode the place with me.. or I will conform and become a full drone (what an interesting thought.. not ever having to think or talk again)
.. anyways the bright side is I can pay off a lot of debts.. and saunter home by 5:51 every evening.
I have given you quite a mouthful.. I would have offered to share some of the photographs from my travels.. but strangely they are all a bit off.. so I will spare you the trauma..
My keyboard is stained red from wine now.. I hardly sleep nights thinking about being sure to get up on time to arrive at 9:00 at work the next day.. it is a tough life.. this new life.. but I will conform.. and I will be like everyone else..
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