zooz

090321-and so I return to the Desert..

2009-03-22T13:53:00.004-04:00

and so I return to the Desert.. I have never particularly liked being in the Desert.. but somehow find myself back in it at transformational times in my Life.. first Iraq.. though I have to admit.. it was unlike the deserts I came to know afterwards.. the land there was seeped with so much history that it was like living in a magical realm.. then Arizona.. there it was a splendour.. of nature.. so pure.. so piercingly real and confident in its beauty that I was spellbound each day.. and now the Kingdom.. which quite frankly is the drabbest of all.. and yet when the mind is shut from all obvious influences.. it seeks new ones.. the sea in this case.. unimaginably blue.. and starkly beautiful.. it becomes a very real escape from the land.. which has not too much to offer.. besides dust and endless morose repetition..
that is more than can be said for the obvious appearance of the people.. white and black.. white and black.. endlessly covered in white and black.. there are no obvious signs of humaness.. no skin.. no spark.. just bodylessness.. which probably is for the good.. because a majority are rather rotund.. it apparently is something to aspire to.. having said that I am pleasantly surprised every time I talk to the locals.. they have feelings just like the rest of us.. they have thoughts.. they desire.. they dream.. they want.. and they Do.. well.. that is if it is not one of the several prayer or siestas times on the hour during the day..
as for Me.. a strange ride if there ever was one.. the madness has ebbed.. I feel it is waiting in wait.. for another moment.. another scene.. I have become corporate.. well as corporate as I can be in a land where everything has wheels within wheels.. it has been an interesting transition.. from a sphere where I could express through my physical work.. to one where I must express through speech and making others do.. if that makes sense.. no longer practicing as an architect.. I make strategies and pass edicts..
what more can be said about an existence in a society which I have lived the opposite of all my life.. it is deafening.. if I speak out.. I hear an echo.. the reverberations of which ultimately lull me to silence.. yes there are characters.. yes it is like living in all those books that we read.. yes there is a discovery.. but somehow it pales.. will it make me more worldly.. yes.. but then who wants to be worldly in a closed box..
there is of course the fact that I am part of a machine heralding a gigantic change.. that feeling is priceless.. to transform a nation.. a people.. through ones actions is unimaginable.. but that is what we are doing.. there is no gauge here.. no measure.. just doing.. generations and centuries from now there will be a measure.. for now there is the pure Act of doing.. this in itself is worth it.. I have the most amazing job in the world.. it is like walking out into the unknown.. with no one for company but your own instincts.. and others around who are as lost and as foolish.. and as emboldened as you.. every day is trial.. and error.. and failure.. and success.. like walking along those narrow ice clad mountain paths that I have foolishly done so many times with Bu and Chien.. only to make it.. and keep going.. emboldened by the fact that no one has stopped us yet..
there is certainly an energy.. there is certainly a spirit.. it remains to be seen how far the vision of a few can transform the lives of a multitude.. our City grows by each passing second.. the beauty is the belief in it.. and all belief is ultimately a false hope.. but sometimes it results in a certainly.. and that is the probability that we are banking on..
in the meanwhile.. I have been travelling like a manic.. yes it is escape.. but it is also how I am most comfortable.. to be stationary is to be static.. is to not grow.. my nomadic family’s genes are just not at rest in one place.. in these ways the blood of my ancestors runs strongly..
there is the story of the sixteen caravans that left the fertile valleys of Kashmir overnight because a King caught a glimpse of one of the fair maidens of our tribe and wished to marry her.. rather than risk the dishonour the entire clan packed up and moved southward.. at the Gangetic plane a huge argument brewed up about the direction in which to proceed.. thirteen went one way and three another.. blood relatives and kinsmen and kinswomen separated due to the feud.. it took many centuries and a visionary like my grandfather to bind the two tribes together again.. when my mother married my father.. and the progeny of the sixteen caravans from Kashmir were bound once more..
I was talking about nomadicity.. and then transgressed.. but anyways.. I have know my family to be wanderers.. my grandfather in New York in the nineteen sixties.. and of course our railroad heritage.. which is hard to run down.. a few weeks ago I was in New Delhi with my aunt and she was telling me of her journey from New Delhi to Bombay by train.. both our eyes glazed over simultaneously and in one voice we both went ecstatic about the kind of sleep she must have got in the gently swaying bogie of an Indian Railway railcar.. for us it is the best sleep in the world.. a countless birthdays celebrated in the trains.. on route to Simla for our summer retreat with my grand parents.. stopping on a fancy at the edge of the Himalayan cliffs for an inspection of the rail line.. trains taking off after ‘official time’ because my mother was not ready yet.. on my bunk bed in the Inspection Room of my father’s carriage watching the rails recede into the Indian countryside on a moon light night..vagabonds we grew up as... more comfortable on the road than stationary in one place.. so it is.. it is in the genes.. one cannot escape it..
Mom tells us stories of our great grandfather who was a collector of all kinds of arms.. the house was full of them.. even in the security of his home he found reason to manifest the movement of a battlefield..
In this silence that I find myself.. conventional wisdom says I am supposed to introspect.. but who do I introspect with?.. I have always been used to introspecting with the multitudes of my being that exist in my family and my friends.. suddenly it is only me.. and in this silence I have created my own oasis of comfort.. a world imbued with my own personification of perfection.. it is strange when people come into it.. they inhabit my innermost recesses.. and I can feel every touch.. every fall of a bottom on a couch.. every drop of an excess drop of liquid from a glass on my woden table.. it is disturbing.. and yet at the same time it makes it real.. though these visits are seldom.. they do happen.. and they make for introspection..
I realize that a lot of time has flown till I found the voice again to pen my thoughts.. there is so much in between that will probably find itself here in bits and pieces.. one thing I can say.. I hold steadfastly to the people I know and who know me.. because in this new world.. it is hard to understand the true colours of people one meets.. there are many of them.. there of course times of happiness and energy.. but they tend to be not that of depth.. as moments with all of you have been..
Untoward for now.. I say no more.. and carry my thoughts to another missive.. which I hope shall be soon..
Peace from the Sands of Arabia..
..R

080708-BOS-The Tide Ebbs..

2008-07-09T00:32:00.001-04:00

the tide ebbs.. and I am left grasping for shells on the beach.. shells of wisdom.. companionship.. camaraderie.. strength... good faith.. vision.. and above all of a beauty of a world that is possible.. a distant landscape glistens in the viewscape.. a city.. a thought.. like a jewel.. it beckons us.. intoxicates us.. draws us away.. this is appropriate.. it is as it should be.. for adventure is what we were meant for.. groomed for.. and ultimately what we desire.. is not life forfeit if we have not had our neck on the gallows once.. or more than once.. one dithers.. one contemplates.. but ultimately one succumbs.. because that voyage to the unknown is so defining and so building that it becomes a force onto itself.. irrespective of what the final goal is.. the chase is always so much more exciting than the quarry..
all my bags are packed.. ready to go.. I am standing here outside the door.. already I am so lonesome I could.... but not really.. already I am so energised I could fly.. the time has come to prove our mettle.. we are groomed.. shined.. sculpted.. when if now was a Fellow more ready.. with the strength of eight five behind one.. and the power of a thousand and one more..
thank you My Fellows for a fond farewell.. your souls.. your thoughts.. your memories are encrypted on my innards.. farewells are usually precursors to an awakening.. such I feeling I do have.. such a feeling does drive me.. and most of all I believe in the power of that diabolical (haha) entity that is All of You.. so forward we forage.. and please remember that you are all responsible for me as much as I am for you.. ;)
peace and good faith
;)R

080329-BOS-Yoga in the Subway

2008-03-30T01:52:00.004-04:00

the snow ebbs from our streets here in Boston.. it came incessantly.. unceasingly.. enveloping us.. making us white.. making us joyful.. making us slip.. making us glide.. transporting us.. and now it slowly goes away.. much like our year here in Boston.. I was overwhelmed.. overawed (am I really that worthy).. overworked.. overcome.. and now it is all ebbing away.. I am now slowly beginning the process of returning to Reality.. Another Reality.. one very different from the one I knew.. I am altered.. I am changed.. I am unhinged.. I am completely and absolutely renewed.. how does one respond to that..
the times.. they are a changin’.. I do believe in Change I say.. Change is good.. Change is rejuvenating.. wait a minute... I Am Change.. and yet when it happens so drastically.. so officially.. so completely.. I am left google eyed.. and clip tongued.. could I be given another twelve years to deal with it.. please.. I realize it is an empty wish.. and after all not one that I want.. I am here.. the time is now.. and I am as ready as I could possibly be..
have I changed.. have I altered.. talk to me.. feel me.. pinch me.. hold me.. abuse me.. needle me.. I realize that in each of us there are layers within layers.. and we wear them all.. take off some.. don some.. inherit some.. buy some on our way.. ultimately they are all ours.. we must have some attraction to them.. and them to us,, that they are on us.. all I have to say is.. get a good tailor.. as long as we can carry them all (and a good fitting definitely helps).. they are of us.. and we of them.. and we must make the best of all those that we have..
introspection is a scary scary place to be.. not too long ago I would have gone on about my wonderful city.. New York.. but my world changed.. not that I love New York any less.. but I love it more.. because of what it gave me.. the power to realize my potential.. yes yes I can hear the snickering.. just a year ago I was talking to Mom and she convinced me that the road to my salvation was Yoga.. but in New York.. where was the time?.. and so I started to do yoga in the subway.. while travelling from point to point.. take it from me.. yoga in the subway really helps.. look where it got me!
did you hear the one about the Architect and the management school?.. no?.. well let me tell you.. what happens to an Architect when he joins a management school?.. answer.. he becomes a Developer.. Yikes!.. that is a joke on myself.. in the first place.. an architect has no place in a management school.. one becomes an object of attraction.. of stereotyping.. of being connected to all things finer.. what is wrong with that?.. nothing.. except that I have a great fear of being stereotyped.. and I would hope.. so does everyone else.. at the same time.. what an amazing position to be in.. to use.. and abuse.. you can have thoughts about everything.. and nothing.. and you will be given as much as you can probably wrangle from a bunch of people who actually have not a clue about the realm of creativity.. what an amazing position to be.. but then again.. as I said.. I hate being stereotyped.. what they can do.. I can do better.. (does not really work in real life when you are dealing with a bunch of folk who have been delving in the stock markets since the day they were born).. but the interesting thing is.. I realized that I do have an opinion about the stock market.. about accounting.. about finance.. about economics.. that is probably valid in the real world.. because like with everything else.. there are no absolutes.. no one else has a clue as to what is happening as much as me.. and there is where the clincher comes in.. the INSTICT.. an amazing thing.. be it in the realm of architecture.. the realm of Life.. and now the new life.. it works!!.. phew!!.. I am saved.. paeans to the life that I lived as an Architect.. as a Sufi.. as a Wanderer..
what do you say to man who thinks he has his eyes wide open.. Blink!!.. and I think that is what I have done in the past year.. did it help?.. tremendously.. it has been quite a Blink.. where are we going?.. I do not know.. (but it does seem that we are slowly but surely inching towards our goal of ruling the world) but it surely feels like we have a new power juice running through our veins.. we are charged.. and recharged.. and we are more awake than we have ever been.. to the possibilities of ourselves.. and what we can accomplish.. this sounds almost like a manifesto.. and I do not wish it to be that.. so..
the summer of 2007.. no let me go back further.. in November of 2006.. when I returned from a break in India to my cushy architecture job in New York.. I was fired.. it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me.. and I told my fireees so.. they promptly called 911(I told you about the rings which I now wear in my last missive.. well.. they really do work!).. I applied to Sloan.. and then promptly was sucked up by an amazing firm who wanted me to design a showroom for Samsung in Korea.. great times.. and greater people.. and I was not fired!.. I joined the Sloan Fellows at MIT in June.. goodbye beloved New York.. parting was deep.. horrible.. sad.. sorrow.. and that is where I have been all this time.. well most of it..
how do I encapsulate everything that has passed in this past year.. I cannot.. the past year I have bonded with my brother Sam and by sisinlaw Ru like I never knew would be possible.. Mom has spent time with us and changed others lives (and saved mine) like I knew was always possible.. spent time with my family and my father.. and created new ventures.. met up and indulged with 85 Fellows in ways I never thought achievable.. on an island.. on a ship.. in class.. in bars.. over food and wine.. and everywhere.. and overcame mountains (the Alps) and died and was reborn again with my ever steadfast Bu and Chien.. and not to forget.. returned to the desert.. and sanduned.. and loved it.. it is like the ground beneath my feet is no more.. the sky opened up to the heavens.. and the breadth of one’s reach increased a million fold.. I realize that in our differences we are so much the same.. and in our very sameness we have amazing nuances of difference.. I was talking to Bu about how cultures around the world are being eroded.. he said.. that the old world charms and etiquette and modes of behaviour are being lost.. and me positive that they are not.. I think he won.. we are losing a lot of what we grew up with and what has been built over generations.. but I hope that in this change we are re interpreting them and moulding them to our time and our purposes.. how long can we pine for that which is passing and that which we can just about grasp.. we can be coloured by it.. remake it.. mould it.. know it.. and make ourselves stronger and better.. therein lies the story of the human race.. one of the greatest things that came out of this experience is bonding with people who believe as strongly in pursuing greatness as ourselves.. that in itself is reaffirming.. one realizes that it is not the individuals that are corrupt.. it is systems.. the individuals themselves desire progress.. ultimately the systems will have to change to accommodate them.. the systems are the daemons created by individuals.. and now they in turn turn repressive.. hopefully not for long..
Youth is an amazing thing.. it is a make believe world of invincibility.. it is foolishness.. and yet in this foolishness there is a great strength.. it is able to defy death.. stupidity.. old age wisdom.. where does one go when youth begins to ebb.. One is still in the last throes of it.. does One have a last youthful hurrah.. does One try to superficially attempt to hold on to it.. does One pop ginseng and herbs and make extend youth.. does One (as Oscar Wilde declared) try and recreate all of One’s youthful misdemeanours to relive it.. ultimately One shall succumb.. since the preserve of youth lies with the young in age.. it is not a mindset.. unfortunately.. it is a state of being of the physically young.. young age begets youth.. unfortunately as one grows older.. one starts to want to think of youth as an inner sense rather than an outer one.. this is self delusion.. youth is and will always remain a preserve of the young in age.. it is one of the greatest tragedies of life.. and of those who have been accorded youth and beauty in great measure.. if one is lucky.. and people seldom are.. it transforms into grace.. grace is youth grown up.. it does not have quite the same dazzling power.. the captivation.. but it has a sublime subtle strength of its own.. let us hope we are lucky to have been given both.. we shall see.. there is a long journey ahead.. and transitions between states are not often the most pleasant..
forgive me.. I grow pensive.. the sun sets.. I was talking with F and V on our trip up to the snow clad peaks of California that ultimately I am a lover of Beauty.. in actions.. words.. thought.. objects.. it does not matter.. I collect them all.. and I remember them all.. not realizing it I probably stumbled into Max Underwood’s class at ASU.. and he taught me about other such collectors.. like Charles and Ray Eames.. at least we have company..
enough said.. I am surprised at myself that my ‘bluemails’ have had such a pause.. but I am glad that they are reinvigorated tonight (hopefully you are as well)..
there is much more to do.. and much more to write about.. which I hope to be doing very soon.. keep you ears to the rails..
Sleep well my friends of light and darkness

061127-White

2006-11-28T00:27:00.000-05:00

an emptiness of a page looks back at me.. and my fingers move but mistakenly.. maybe the rings are as powerful as they say.. let me tell you about the rings..

no wait.. first about India.. what can you say about a whore.. she takes you back.. much as you hate wanting to go back.. you find lost caresses in the folds of her ample bosom.. you savour the sweet sweat which trickles from her unshaved armpits.. you jiggle her belly for some sign of that intoxication which first overwhelmed you.. you do all this and more and find that it does excite you.. it does provocate.. does overwhelm.. and does actually take you not back.. but to another unsurpassed dimension where you had never thought you would be able to go.. and I realize that I am the whore.. India is what it has always been.. young.. all knowing.. all reaching.. all encompassing.. endearing.. open armed.. open legged.. beautiful and infinite as always.. I am the one who has grown old.. I am stuck in the past.. expecting the same smells.. the same adaa.. the same tehazeeb.. but like a vivacious effervescent nymph.. India has skipped on.. yes she welcomes me.. but it is a welcome for one whose place is in the jaded dusted quarters.. do not get me wrong.. I am still displayed with the jewels.. but hark.. they sparkle but seldom..

but enough of this.. I will not have it said that it was not a home going.. it was.. but more so than ever I was nonplussed.. Laxman.. our Man Friday of the house.. never steps out of home.. he cooks.. he cleans.. he gardens with a vengeance.. at his own pace.. in his own time.. he has found his sphere.. and he is content in it.. I associated with him.. kind of.. I wished to remain in the sphere of my parents’ home.. but I may not.. I am meant for much more.. the world has become our sphere.. and I tend to it in which ever way I may..

Mom and Da.. uncles and aunts.. brothers and nieces.. friends and lovers.. overwhelmed with their love.. I was in limbo once again.. it was peaceful..

then came along the Occult.. four days before I was to leave.. I went to the Ones who Know.. the future.. the past.. the insides.. and the outsides.. and the in betweens.. with a fixed gaze and a non batting eyelid they told me what has been written and what must be done.. I could only bow in awe.. and succumb in temptation of what I know they want me to want and everyone else to want.. it is a rosy picture.. how they know.. I know not.. with what instruments and processes they paint these pictures of black and white and grey.. I have yet to learn.. but I feel it too.. they say the moon affects me.. I feel it.. they say I am to be a star.. I feel I know that already.. they say I must wear the White Sapphire.. and I feel I knew that always.. and so with only two days left to steal Mom and I go to the alleys of Karol B and search high and low for this perfect stone which will carry on our destiny.. and wonder of wonders.. we find it.. at the last moment.. with the perfect vahan.. it is magic.. as so much in India is.. overnight this jewel from Ceylon is fashioned into a ring in the Buddhist Kidney shape in white gold.. and it alters me.. white stone from that tear drop of an island where the three oceans meet.. it is blessed with a power from beyond.. sometimes true beauty.. absolute and unblemished beauty has the power to move.. and so it does.. and I have not since been the same..

061121-Back

2006-11-27T22:44:00.000-05:00

its been a while..

but then again

what is a while in the transcendence of time..

we have been Down..

we have been Up..

some have left us..

and some have joined and are to be joined..

there is Pain..

there is Sorrow..

there is movement and there are calamities..

in the end it is all a bundle of..

chaos..

happiness..

an immensity of emptiness..

little things..

big things..

the big are ultimately too small..

and the small provide an immensity of meaning..

we are Calm..

as we have not been for awhile..

we look forward without ever looking back..

because the ‘back’ has become a part of our baggage a long time ago..

we move..

knowing that every further step we take..

shall take us back to our beginning..

060625-Requiem

2006-11-27T22:40:00.000-05:00

it is not the wine that is bad.. it is our tastes that are unhinged and peculiar.. Ms C moves in to our wondrous abode.. you will recognize it not now.. she comes with a refrigerator specifically dedicated to wine.. it hums silently under the stairs.. and beacons to us its bottled purple treasures.. the kitchen is equipped enough now to host many an iron chef episode.. the energy is palpable.. the waft and weave of our life continues..

we are just back from Boston.. Sam and Ru are discovering the immeasurable delights of shopping in mammoth grocery stores.. the very Frankensteinian pleasure of using an insinkerator.. the thirty day return back policy on everything from cell phone service to underwear.. and professors who actually impart knowledge and alter one’s perception..

we drive to the Cape.. New England has truly taken on its namesake’s weather.. rain and clouds and more of the same for days on end.. Mimi’s house on the hill is leaking from its pores.. Satya has strategically arranged pots to collect the rhythmically falling drip.. the sea is a study in silvers and greys.. it blends with a similar hued sky.. the horizon is non existent.. we walk barefoot along the beach in the coarse sand through seaweed and shells and burnt firewood.. our feet are exfoliated.. the sea gulls gawk.. then squawk.. and as we approach.. show off the width of their spans as they take flight.. in town we are still barefoot.. we walk down main street Provincetown sloshing through small ponds of water on the sidewalk and the road.. did I mention it was raining.. and of course that most illusory of all inventions the umbrella is no where to be found.. or at least the strangest ones are at hand.. Satya finds a purple one.. Ru a peach.. Sam gets a stunted black.. and I.. Mimi’s granddaughters’ rainbow coloured twelve inches in diameter one.. it is quite a sight.. we are a spectacle.. and the mosquitoes.. they are the size of large oranges.. I kid you not.. I had thought I was conversant with all mosquito attack tactics.. but these left me at sea.. because of their size.. they shoot themselves straight at you.. get into you hair.. and then they proceed to suck your brain blood.. we retreated in great disarray to safer climes..

the times have been one of much change.. Golan gets married in Israel to Tam.. and the crew attends their wedding.. we are unable to make it since the boundaries of our existence are restrained by some very physical documentation.. so also Shees.. in Canada.. but we are bound within the confines of our American greatland.. Alexi and Tri return from a biking tour from Italy.. they are coloured golden and are full of tales of wine and adventure.. some family has left the fold and some more has moved in.. it is a continuous process.. change brings with it much inner ferment.. people move on.. move up.. move down.. move left and right.. they move out of sight.. out of speech.. out of the multitude.. but never out of our mind.. the pleasure of our so called loosely held universe is that we are all out and about and complacent and not.. and complement each other.. and we progress as such.. the threads that bind us are made of our meetings and our experiences.. and everything that goes with it.. it is an interesting predicament to let people go.. as much as it is to let them in.. one lives with the pain of the first.. as much as one looks forward to the pleasure of the latter.. one ultimately learns to live with pain.. it is like an hot Indian green chilli.. you bite into one and it is hell.. then you are numb.. but ultimately you are strangely cleansed..

a wedding in the fold.. Mo gets married in India.. we could not make it.. neither could his American in laws.. we attend the festivities in Arizona instead.. Mo is aglow.. and his wife Jamie is more such.. he is my little brother.. an intimate gathering in the sands of the desert.. we eat.. we drink.. and we show them a little of the of the New York spirit.. we snatch the mike from the yodeller.. and belt out a very drunken ‘New York New York’.. Mo and Jamie dance.. momentarily.. we are photographed.. the in laws make references to us being from New York to explain it all away.. and the stars bless us all.. it is magic..

I read Kafka and Beckett in synchronicity.. I understand nothing.. and yet the subconsciousness picks up bits of meaning.. my dreams are tinted by their perceptions.. when Staya calls my mind is still wandering.. Mit’s heart stops beating.. he was a true friend.. a true gentleman.. and a true architect.. he is gone.. one of our own.. I wander seeking remembrance.. I consider my life to be just beginning.. how can his have ended.. it is beyond comprehension.. the numbness sets in.. Satya and I many oceans away have a Wake for him.. we talk.. we sing.. we imbibe.. we vent.. we reminisce.. we feel the minuteness of the human eternity..

060421-the Sleep of the Drugged

2006-04-19T23:51:00.000-04:00

It is Holi.. Mom and Da call and update me as they celebrate back home.. and I reminisce.. Choti (small) Holi at the Gorakhpur Club with my grandparents.. a giant bonfire (made even bigger by the fact that I was but six and a half years old).. the ladies are dressed in their finest silks.. the men in very pukka attire.. we kids have long since given up any pretence of being well bred or born.. a bowl with dough is passed around.. my wondrous grandmother brings me some as I dance around the fire.. she gently instructs me on how I must rub it all over my body so that it may rub off the sins of the year past.. when I am done she murmurs an incantation.. puts hers into my hands and instructs me to thrown it in.. and lo.. our sins are cleared away.. purified by that purest of the pure.. Fire.. I look up and see her face as it is catches the brilliant golden and red reflections.. and I feel that nothing I possibly may have done can ever effect me if I am wrapped in the love of One so beautiful and serene.. my beautiful Grandmother..

cut to New Delhi a few years ago.. I visit India during Holi after a long time.. it is celebrated with the entire clan at A Mama’s home.. he lives in an enclave where I spent part of my childhood.. my grandparents house was there.. I got my first swimming lesson in the Club Pool with a toad of an instructor.. my first serious romance.. the very trees whisper tales of our family history.. my uncle has had a special pool dug in the gardens of his home and it is filled with coloured rose scented water.. as we prepare to set out from our home.. I remember my bhang filled holis in architecture school and with a little mischief in my mind decide to make some thandai for the party.. I retrace my footsteps to the back stores where I had bought the ingredients many moons before.. the owner.. noticing my attire refuses to give me anything but his most distilled version.. I ask him the quantities to be mixed and he provides me with a calculation.. back home the servants run back and forth as I demand from them the ingredients which must go into my concoction.. finally it is prepared.. we oil our entire bodies and hair.. get into our oldest clothes and finally set forth.. I am armed with colours and pigments of all kinds.. I want it to be a true holi homecoming.. the scene at A Mama’s home is riotous.. there are four year olds to hundred year old grandmothers all running around wishing everyone Happy Holi and applying liberal amounts of colour on each other.. cousins and aunts are being dunked in the coloured pool.. my mother with her mischievous smile has got along a mixture of henna disguised as colour.. she applies this liberally on all my white haired uncle’s heads.. when they wake up tomorrow.. they will be unable to get the colour off for at least a month.. I start to ladle my thandai concoction to all and sundry.. everyone has drunk at least a glass full.. and I many more.. soon enough all mayhem breaks loose.. not realizing the potency of the distilled bhang I had mixed liberally.. everyone from the youngest to the oldest are hallucinating.. as I am.. our worst fears are realized as are our most extreme thoughts.. grand mothers are shipwrecked.. cousins are giving birth.. others are drowning.. A Mama is seeing doctors.. I myself am going through an endless cycle of repetition.. my last action becomes my first in an endless cycle.. and it does not stop.. for hours and hours.. I am spent.. I am wrecked.. I am anxious.. I am broken.. yet the drug is within me and will not let go.. all I can do is retrace my steps again.. and again.. and then repeat.. endlessly.. as the sun ebbs.. my brain is still being held captive.. Mom by a superhuman effort herds us into the car and we drive in a daze.. in silence back home.. that night I sleep the sleep of the dammed.. and that I am.. as the next day dawns.. I am shaken awake.. and through my stupor made to apologize to every family member who was present.. and their relations who were not.. and anyone who might have been.. and their great grandmothers.. the lesson.. never think that you may repeat the mischief’s of your youth.. for one.. the price has gone up radically.. people somehow never sell you the same damn stuff they sold for a rupee before.. they sell you extra distilled.. extra special.. extra pure.. guaranteed to get you to oblivion stuff.. for a hundred times the price.. and what is more you buy it like a fool.. because you can actually afford it now.. but I remember for a moment.. and yes there was just a tiny little moment there.. when the drug just hit.. everyone was transported.. albeit momentarily.. to another blissful plane.. most had never been there before and I reckon most never will.. but I am sure it was a unique moment in their lives.. some of my aunts still chide me as to when I am going to get them a fix again..

at work I claim I am sick beyond belief and recuperating.. in reality I am airborne and a thousand feet above ground.. headed to CO.. Bu welcomes me and our snowboards in a monster of a car and we head through the canyons to the snow heavy mountains beyond.. Copper is blissful.. our energies were a match for the mountain once we got acclimatised to the altitude.. two miles above sea level.. we followed our skier Colorado friend on a cross country trail from one mountain to the next on a path not wider than the width of my left hand.. midway I slip and desperately try to dig my board into the snow.. and then the arduous climb back up to the ‘trail’.. I am half dead by the time I am up.. and then there is no one in sight but an absolutely obscene expanse of snow and a thin trail leading to gawd knows where.. I breathe deeply.. and carry on.. needless to say I persevered.. we found a deeper snow.. a higher high.. a steeper triple black.. a crazier knee shattering – jaw chattering mogul slope.. we died and came back to life.. we were exhausted beyond belief and were rejuvenated beyond what any elixir could have the power to do..

in the evening we melt into a spring of sulphur.. the large pools are shrouded in the mists rising from the water.. bodies emerge engulfed in a white flame.. our hearts beat a million miles per hour.. it must be the effect of the hot sulphur water.. it is tranquil and at the same time terribly exhausting..

we drive down the deserted streets of this sulphur town searching for a place to eat and come upon a ‘french’ place.. it is awful.. we peck at our food.. spit out the wine.. and stumble out.. and lo.. we have our Midwest experience.. we have a UFO sighting.. right in the middle of Main Street.. Sulphurville.. Bu points it out to me and we are transfixed.. it is truly spectacular.. we make a silent communication with that satellite from the heavens and head to bed..

the next day dawns life a promise.. and it more than fulfils it.. we are airborne on our boards at Aspen.. we speed through full forests very Star War’s like.. avoiding and falling into vortexes.. we try our skills on rapids except that the rapids are mounds of snow.. we glide through the glades and the light and the shadows create an every changing tapestry of white and dark in our path.. we laugh like children and cry in the ecstasy of the moment.. we are silent and yet our souls are overwhelmed by the sublimity of it all..

the highest of the highest is open but only approachable by a strange hangar contraption.. easy for skiers to latch onto.. but a nightmare for snowboarders.. we hold on for dear life.. it tries to shake us free.. but we hold on.. it shrugs us away.. but we persevere.. on our knees.. our arms numb and crying.. we hold on.. our breath is fast and irregular.. our shoulders no longer exist.. but we hold on.. as we reach the top.. that unfeeling hangar whips us away.. and we are there.. and it is spectacular.. there are few besides us.. and the beauteous snow is all around.. and so is a white crown of mountains.. we are truly in heaven.. snow heaven.. boarding heaven.. we take a few to capture the moment and then proceed to make our own stamp on Aspen.. we head down ninety degree cliffs.. snow which would surely submerge us if we stopped.. we are crazy.. we are mad.. we have no fear.. we are ecstatic.. and it is the greatest ride in the world..

there are times when the body has had enough.. it creaks and it croaks.. but it is driven to extremes extraordinaire by the circumstances.. this one such.. our bodies existed no more.. they were spent beyond belief.. but our energies were reawakened beyond belief.. the mountains.. the snow.. nature.. the company.. the physical acts of utter and extreme madness.. created a high that was like no other.. indiscernible.. indescribable.. almost unreal.. except that we felt it.. and were energised beyond belief by it..

that night we sleep the Sleep of the Drugged.. we have been drugged with over stimulation.. over happiness.. over reaching.. over ecstasy.. there is no feeling.. no thought.. no words.. no more.. we are on a High.. and it is au naturale..

we drive back through the canyons of CO.. they are much contoured.. the moon plays hide and seek with the ridges.. the roads twist and turn at their whim.. and we sing songs we have sung many time before.. but with a new voice..

we reach family.. my brother Gautamese.. his wife Meetu.. my aunt Rani.. and I meet for the first time my beauteous niece Maahika.. I am instantly on edge.. I am not good with children.. but it is somehow she who interprets the common blood that flows through our veins.. and she puts me at my ease.. she is but six months old.. and yet her gaze as she looks at me is almost Lama ic.. we spend hours in her company playing cards.. she is the second girl born in our house after a long long spell.. and she personifies the qualities of the women of our house.. beauty with might.. I am spell bound.. we are treated like kings.. fed like there is no tomorrow.. and enveloped in a warmth that only Family can give..

sadly we bid farewell to this Heaven.. the parting is as if in a play.. the luminescent canopies of Denver Airport call out to the snows and in the backdrop the mountains in their snow armour.. the skies stage a virtual play in colours.. it is beauty beyond belief.. manmade and natural.. we are spell bound.. we have been ever since we landed.. and the spell is not yet released.. and we are its willing subjects..

How.. you ask.. does One return to New York after a ride such as that.. and I say.. that the rides here are created by us for our own pleasures and highs.. and I would say that our life here makes us more acute and appreciative of the worlds that we visit..

Well.. it has been a few since these events happened.. but their memory and their energies recharged us for a spell..

I do not know how to end this one.. but there is no end.. only continuance.. and continue we shall..

060309 - Gliding with the Gods

2006-03-09T22:57:00.000-05:00

Snow.. Tuhina.. Neige.. Neve.. Gngas.. amazing amazing snow.. finally a snowstorm in New York.. we were buried.. and we dug ourselves out.. we were covered and we shovelled our way through.. we were blanketed.. and we snuggled our way out.. New York metamorphs into a crystalline kingdom.. and we become its elves.. no cars.. no transport.. just wrapped bodies traversing the length and breadth of this magic kingdom.. all its coarsness.. all its crassness.. all its so called darkness converted into white.. how sweet it is.. Alexi and I pick up our fantabulous toboggan.. and make our way to the hills of Central Park.. a crowd awaits us.. of frolicking youth.. from two year olds to the end of the ages.. we are all caught up in the delight that is Snow.. I boom out ‘ Coming Down’.. ‘Clear the Way’.. the path down the hill is cleared.. we race down on our sled that has seen many a snowfall.. Oooohs and Aaaahs herald its decent.. and ours.. we make our way up the hill with our sleek vahan.. the sixties children have a look in their eyes that tells of times when they were snowbound on one such as this.. the little ones flock around aching for a ride.. we pile them all on.. in true Indian fashion.. if it was meant to accommodate half a dozen.. surely it can accommodate double that number.. and away we go.. the years are washed away.. we are all One.. young and old.. Alexi pushes from the back.. and then jumps on.. I steer.. suddenly a little flying snowflake of a dog come flying through the air as we clear our first bump.. I am mesmerized.. Alexi yowls.. the magic has caught the pooch’s’ senses as well however.. midair it carries out a course correction and disappears in a blinding flash as we make the longest run in the history of that hill on Central Park West (do not quote me on that)..

the mountains must surely too be covered.. we may return to our lives in the snow.. the season started off gloriously enough.. and then a lull.. it was a summer in the middle of winter.. but now we are back on track.. we may continue our spree.. between Hunter.. Killington.. Lake Placid.. we have fairly dominated the East coast (I know.. I know you East coasters.. and you Continentals).. but what the hell.. we make do with what we have.. and it is true Bliss.. the joy.. the freedom.. the ecstasy.. the sublimity of being on a Board.. in the snow (ice / sometimes thin ice/snow with grass) is phenomenal.. Bu calls it.. Gliding with the Gods.. and it truly is.. we are Free.. we are One.. we are in world created momentarily and we cannot get enough.. a sensation so akin to flying.. no.. beyond flying.. all the senses are at their most acute.. and yet as we zip down the mountain we are a flock of birds.. Bu..Chien..I.. together in formation and out of it.. yet unique in our own aura.. nothing stops us.. snowstorms.. icy rain.. sleet.. freezing weather.. winds at 71 knots per hour.. zero visibility.. skiers.. Bu and Chien carry out stunts fit for Olympic glory.. they are the Champions.. I play in their shadow.. ‘the only thing to Fear is Fear itself’.. truly.. once fear sets in.. one is undone.. till then it is a completeness of body and mind.. and snow..

Miriam returns to New York.. momentarily.. she fills our sphere with her wanderings.. a year ago she vanished into the horizon.. no more work.. she had had enough of the daily drudgery.. no more stagnation.. there was the whole world to be conquered.. and conquer she did.. she returned with a lad from England.. who did the same but a year before her.. and had been wandering ever since.. Mighty John.. who traversed the globe in his Land Rover.. they met in that sliver of the Americas called Chile.. John is like the ancients.. like a Narad Muni.. he has the World in his Eyes.. a week spent basking in the aura of their travels was delightful.. the more one traverses the globe the more one realizes that we are all common souls.. how else does one explain the thread of continuity he found across the planet.. Krishna once opened his mouth and his mother saw the entire Cosmos inside.. of the worldly.. one sees the orbs of their eyes as revolving planets.. and so it was with them.. a kinship of the revolving orbs.. delightful..

the body revolts now and then.. enough it says.. no more.. my wanderings into the massage parlours of K-Town finally led me to the ultimate of ultimates.. a true underground New York experience.. and I am hooked.. so many people and yet one is alone.. and yet not quite so.. so many people.. and yet one is naked.. and yet not so.. this dungeon of the release personifies it so well.. it is a mini New York experience in New York.. one descends into the depths of a hued tomb.. giant red fishes glide around in the walls blowing phantasmic bubbles.. a gauze curtain demarcates the space from my eyes.. music strangely familiar yet with unfamiliar overtones pulsates in the background .. a woman in pseudo oriental garb approaches me and asks.. how long.. and I say.. rather nonplussed.. after a bit of hesitation.. and finally comprehending.. One Hour.. she ushers me into the sanctum.. there are bits and pieces of other bodies visible behind towels and below oriental hands.. I lie down.. she eases the tensions out.. with her magic fingers.. elbows.. feet.. face down I suddenly have a sensation that I am the centre of a haggle of mandarin voices.. there are giggles.. prods.. my masseuse yanks down the last shred of dignity I have on.. I hear more ahhs.. and then a whistle.. I am on display.. what matters.. the body has ceased to exist.. I am floating.. I hear an approaching rumble.. the whole room vibrates.. next door the subway hurries past.. it adds to the experience..

W visits India and bypasses the Taj.. like popping into Buckingham and not having tea and cucumber sandwiches with the Queen.. he dwells instead in the ancient cities and streets that have recloaked themselves to become the new centres of the Globe.. they are the new Taj.. India it would seem shines with a new light.. a new vibrancy and vitality.. nowhere is this better exemplified than in the voice messaging system.. in the US the phone message voice is that of an automatron.. impersonal and completely soulless.. in India it is the voice of a woman in a perpetual orgasm..

another getaway over the weekend to the North eastern tip called Provincetown.. Mimi’s fathers’ great rambling house on the top of a hill.. a plumbers’ flood has washed away parts of it.. and we are there to rejuvenate it.. I am back in a place where the cycles of connection are much much smaller.. so much history and association concentrated in a tiny little bit of land.. we eat oysters harvested just a stone throws away.. we take in the infinite panorama of a dark blue sea merging into a multihued sky.. the waves make their own music against the sand.. as the golden orb of the sun drips elliptically into the waters its rays catch the white bodies of the gulls as they fly stationary into the rushing wind.. and colour them into Gull shaped Oscars.. Mimi mentions her childhood escapades.. wrapped in her saffron and gold hued silk sari Mimi sashays on the sands against the backdrop of a phantasmically multicoloured sky.. it all happens in front of my eyes once again.. it is magic.. and I realize she is still a child.. how can one not be if one has a place so simple close to ones soul..

back in the City.. my clients treat me with great indulgence.. I would have thought it would have been the other way around.. but it is not so.. they chide me for taking my work too much to heart.. is their any other way?.. they say that the way we architects think is something no one but we ourselves and God will see it.. one realizes once again that there are a multitude ways of viewing the world.. and ours is probably the most critical.. it would probably provide us a great deal better nights sleep if we could switch on and switch off these faculties at will.. at least we would not have to notice every misplaced joint.. every non aligned screw head.. every arch that did not meet its ending.. it is tragic to be imbibed with such a horrible sense of the prefect that one does not view imperfections as anything else but boils..

back home.. my brother and my sister in law make ready to leave Indian shores for the promised land (in this case MIT).. it is going to be a long journey.. not physically.. but in terms of realizing that even though one traverses the expanses of the globe.. everything and everyone on that side is very much akin to this side.. it is the realization of the space between which creates the distance.. but until the world does not realize that we will make our millions.. we will be the kings of this world and the other.. and everyone in between.. because we have the knowledge that everything across the planet functions pretty much the same way.. you scratch my back and I will scratch yours..

as always this missive has been written over a while.. and much wine.. and if I do not send it now.. I realize it will be the Ramayan before I ever send it out..

Bon chance..

051128 - Playing with the Panthers

2005-11-28T22:44:00.000-05:00

Perhaps no other City has the ability to provide the kind of euphoria that New York provides.. or maybe it is just that the euphoria is within and One just has to find the right environment for its release.. and mine it would seem is New York.. as I swim to the surface of this wonderland now and then.. I write.. and then plunge again into the depths of its unconsciousness/consciousness.. and mine..

Mom had a dream.. the servants come running to her saying that there are panthers in the compound.. everyone immediately takes to safety.. except me.. I insist on staying outside in their company.. everyone’s entreaties fall on deaf ears.. I will not listen.. I stay in the company of the panthers.. outside.. playing.. unmindful of the supposed danger.. I am one with them.. and they with me..

Mom has a way with dreams.. when our Delhi house was being built it was decided that the marble for the floors would be chosen right at the quarries in Rajasthan.. so Mom and Da trek down to the innermost quarry depths of the marble producing regions.. they meet a friend of a friend of a very close relation who shows them a Lot and the deal is struck.. Mom and Da retire for the night to a rest house in the middle of nowhere.. and then Mom has a dream.. Sam and I appear and tell her that we are being duped.. we are getting the wrong marble from the wrong kind of guy.. Mom wakes up Da immediately and will not rest another minute.. at the crack of dawn a frantic ride to the distant acquaintance’s place.. the dream is related.. and the deal annulled.. Mom breathes a great sign.. soon enough they discover the perfect Lot at another marble quarry.. it now graces the expanses of our home..

..maybe I should try hanging out with panthers..

The birthday celebrations are come and gone.. they were relatively low key this time.. just a party at home for me and a hundred and eight of my closest friends.. we drank.. we danced.. we sang.. we got hosed down by the neighbour (my friends retailed with cake and whatever else was close at hand).. and we were visited by eight dancing policemen.. who gave rather generous smiles to everyone and asked us very politely to keep it down (Viva New York’s Finest!).. I was then given a second hosing in eight bottles of champagne.. (in case you are wondering.. I was born on the eighth).. two fantastic friends who had driven down from Albany cleaned up the house to sparkling before I could get up.. and before Da made his appearance from the Delhi flight.. not a shred of evidence remained.. except perhaps that hidden under the covers.. but he did not notice..

..the following weeks were a riot of business.. entertainment.. and a mad dash from New York.. to DC.. back through Delaware.. New Jersey.. meeting old friends.. and making new ones.. and then Da leaves.. leaving me with a freezer full of parathas cooked by Mom.. which I eat sparingly and relishing every bite.. and a great desire to be in India as soon as I can possibly manage..

not too long ago the world paused momentarily.. it was a replay.. déjà vu.. in London this time.. as it had happened before our eyes in New York.. the chaos of a world turned upside down by humans.. for purposes that are beyond comprehension.. a brother caught in the midst of it.. a sister dealing with the shock.. and friends just thankful that they were not part of it.. the collective memory however creates an event that again changed our lives.. a notion was reinforced.. one that no one wanted to accept was going to be part of our daily lives.. we realized that this is a new age.. suddenly the movies and novels about the future where at any time anything might occur do not seem so distant.. suddenly we have started to live every day as if it might be our last.. and so we go on Living.. as best as we can.. stumbling.. reaching.. over reaching.. falling.. standing.. breathing.. searching.. finding

I remember the next day to be a glorious one.. an escape from the City.. to the hills north of New York.. a hike up to a splendid pool through pristine green foliage.. a waterfall that surely descended from the heavens.. and not a soul in sight.. and even if they were.. they were non existent.. the force of the water on my body falling as it was from a great height cleansing it of the last particles of Me as it were.. a dip in the tranquil pool below.. and then a hike down along the path of the creek that was born of the water of the falls.. we reached down slipping and sliding.. and very wet.. but ecstatic.. a drive through the countryside to discover a lake at the end of a dead end.. we paddled our metallic canoe through fields of water lotuses and grass reaching out to us through the blue black waters.. and a repast of bread and chive cream cheese while we lay anchor in the midst of the water grass.. and then the mist rolls into the wondrous valley.. and we hike again to the top of a hill.. there is no view however.. just the midst rolling through the psychedelic foliage.. and as we reach the top we are engulfed in fog.. it is like flying in an airplane with your feet squarely on terra ferma.. no words are spoken.. we are grounded and at the same time air borne.. transient.. and yet here.. suddenly the sun pierces through the mists.. the leaves on the trees become positively fluorescent.. we are blessed.. and then the mists envelop us once more..

Snow complains that I am very Vain.. I have googled this and found the following definition.. "a conceited fool"; "an attitude of self-conceited arrogance".. and this only because I asked (very politely, I might add) that I be included in all the photographs she takes at random.. I am merely trying to provide a perspective to her art..

they say great beauty has always something tragic behind it.. I wonder if it works inversely.. that great tragedy can end up creating things of great beauty..

at the beginning of September.. we went up to Lake George to camp.. with a singing crew.. Shay who had eaten a tuna sandwich and a chocolate ice cream within the span of seconds.. with obvious results.. in a van.. with a boat in four prices made by Alexi in the back.. we were to inhabit an island in the middle of the Lake.. so we arrive at the shore.. bolt the four piece boat together.. and Alexi and I row for an hour and thirty two minutes and make it across the crystal waters just as the sun is setting behind the surrounding hills.. at camp there is mayhem.. there is no electricity.. no idea of which part of the island is ours.. and a big old man with a craggy voice informs us to look out for rattle snakes.. we somehow set up base in torchlight.. by this time we are all extremely inebriated.. in great part due to Jeff.. who has been ladling rum down our throats.. so we eat a strange dinner by the camp fire.. and as it dies.. complete darkness engulfs us.. and with it.. a strange bohemianess.. we are free.. we are on an island.. we have no electricity.. no toilets.. and we are surrounded by rattlesnakes.. so everyone takes off all their clothes and jumps into the Lake.. the rest of the days followed in a similar vein.. we rowed Alexi’s boat till our hands were bleeding.. we hiked the surrounding mountains till our knees gave out.. and then a straight jump into the pristine lake waters.. swimming with the little fish.. cooking on the camp fire.. and singing with not a care in the world.. our voices carried in the wind to islands many leagues away.. I sang all my Hindi songs.. which no one else knew.. but felt.. we sang songs that everyone knew.. we made songs that will never be sung again.. in paradise for a moment.. I did not shower for four days (my friends are extremely proud of this achievement of mine).. but boy was I glad to get back to the City.. too much of paradise can be.. well a bit much..

it is raining in New York.. and will apparently do so for the next week or so.. or so the weather report says.. but they are not always on the dot.. I have always maintained that our neighbourhood New York psychic will be able to give a better reading of the weather than the weathermen.. the terror alert is orange.. but it is business as usual..

a spell has passed since I wrote those lines.. and I must send them away.. otherwise they would never be sent..

like everything else in Life.. procrastination kills continuity..

050704 - A City in Heat

2005-07-04T22:17:00.000-04:00

Franticity.. what is it about packing that makes me like what an oyster would probably feel in the Sahara desert.. packing.. unpacking.. and then packing and going through the cycle all over again.. I have done it so often through my life.. I go into packing freeze each time I have to travel.. thankfully Bubbles..Snigdha..Mary..Satya drifted in just in time to do a superb job.. while I applied cold compresses to my head.. and then what was supposed to be a quick.. but turned out to be an extended stop at Mimi’s for a portrait of Moi for my mother.. she captured me as an old man initially.. a perfect Dorian Grey image.. and then spent the next few hours trying to make it look young..

and then off to Delhi once again.. It is the ultimate City in Heat.. from the sweating hordes.. to the beetle stained sidewalks.. to the ever pervading smell of food mixed up with that of animal excreta.. from its excessive grandeur to its cruel poverty.. from its rags to its riches.. from its hidden passions to its unhindered abuse.. it is so intensely erotic that one cannot but imagine its denizens being in a perpetual state of excitement..

no wonder each and every invader of Hindustan tried to make it their capital.. and that very passion in the air.. that intoxicating mix.. seduced them and proved their undoing.. so it is now as well.. I am given to believe that it played host to a record 12000 weddings in a single day one winter day last year..

..but much more than this it remains a City of infinite decadence.. and therefore its infinite allure.. it reminds one of Paris as described in A Tale of Two Cities.. magnificent opulence juxtaposed with unsurpassed poverty.. and One does not talk of purely of money.. it is in thought.. deed.. words.. food.. and so on..

landing at Delhi airport is always an awakening.. a curious spectacle awaited me at the customs line.. a sardar gentleman wished to adjust his shirt.. instead of taking the recourse of the restroom (he would loose his position in the queue) he lowered his zipper (keeping the waist button secure) and proceeded to tug and adjust his shirt through this opening usually reserved for other activities..

the parental house was an oasis.. freshly turned out and bursting with greenery.. its calm was a great relief in the flurry of marriage madness that followed.. how is it to be described.. presents being exchanged.. chaos.. more presents exchanged.. ceremonies.. more and more presents exchanged.. organizing menus..drinks..flower arrangers..priests..elephants..coconuts.. sacred threads.. unpronounceable wedding paraphernalia and then more presents exchanged.. and did I forget.. clothes!!.. I would be extremely surprised if Cher (or whoever the reigning diva of the day is) spends as much time in looking over each and every gold thread.. bead.. crystal (Svarofsky.. no less!) that went into their wedding dresses (I say it in plural because there was one for each ceremony).. the scene would have made Elvis blush..

As the days passed more and more relatives and friends descended on us.. I danced with my evergreen Uncles.. Yashpal & Raj my version of the Russian Toothstep.. while my aunts sashayed to old songs.. and my cuz Dhiru manned the music.. and then of course there was the effervescently wonderful presence of my sister-in-law.. Ruchira.. she enraptured us all with her amazing beauty and grace..

did I mention that my brother was marrying into a Jain family that permits no consumption of alcohol..meat.garlic..onion.. and anything else that has been touched by an animal.. so rest assured the feelings on display throughout the events were the most genuine.. meanwhile my father would sneak an unsuspecting Jain off to the club house for a drink with him.. with the result that he gave a rather impassioned speech at the end of the Sangeet (Music & Dancing) ceremony.. to much critical applause.

Pre wedding my brother Sam got smeared with tamarind paste from head to toe in the Haldi Ceremony and then got a great hosing down by me from a water pipe.. unfortunately he also indulged in a full facial with the result that his nose glowed like a red light bulb in outer space..

and finally the wedding.. in the chaos that pervades all Indian weddings.. we prayed.. we tied turbans.. we donned all our wedding finery in the midst of rounding up a horde of relatives who were running around in all directions.. in the meanwhile the wedding car was bedecked with the most fragrant flowers in Indiadom.. a coconut broken by the most loyal Ram in front of the car.. and we were off.. us four.. Mom.. Da.. Sam and I in the marriage car.. like old times as we had travelled the world over.. now on an infinitely more deeper journey.. a detour to the temple to take the blessings of the reining deity.. and I smashed another coconut in her honour.. splattering my new shervani with its sweet juice.. Mom admonished.. and then the drive at twenty miles per hour (the fragrant flowers would have been ripped off by the wind if I drove any faster) to the marriage venue followed by a crazy convoy of dressed and half dressed relatives..

My brother Sam has never been One for whom Time holds much importance.. however he was a changed Man.. he led us by every tick the second hand made on the diamonds on his glittering watch.. We arrived at the venue on time (my Family has never collectively ever made it to any event on time.. we are well known at all the major and non major airports of the world for missing flights.. at parties for arriving in time for dessert and at concerts for the encore.. trains have been rescheduled.. priests have had to consult the planets to find suitably delayed timings for child naming ceremonies.. we have been conditioned by centuries of Indian tradition) ..needless to say the reception Ladkiwallas (Girl Household) fell of their collective haunches..

a last minute adjustment of all headgear by the pugree (headgear) tier.. an auspicious mantra by the priest and we fell into formation and slowly made our way down the hotel driveway with the shehenai walas leading the way.. we were welcomed.. more presents were given and then another couple of million ceremonies.. and the marriage had not even taken place yet..

just when everyone was wondering when the ceremony would ever begin there was a great commotion at the entrance and my sister in law appeared.. she seemed to glide on gilded wings.. every inch of her sparkled.. the space around seemed to glow.. not the least because the colours of the décor had been specially matched to her outfit..

the ceremonies continued.. an exchange of garlands.. and then finally they made their way to the mandap where the priest was waiting.. and the real marriage began.. the priest (specially imported from Agra) was at his best and insisted on displaying his masterful command of the English language.. with the result that he received many taunts from the assemblage.. mid ceremony my aunts and uncles decamped on getting word that the delicacies in the dinning hall were truly spectacular.. as the time of the final vows arrived they had to be literally strong armed back.

the wedding was spectacular.. it was a study in dignity.. I was at my best behaviour and created none of the usual embarrassments I am prone to.. looking back it was probably the ultimate juggling act of fragile egos.. most of the time is spent placating egos and assuring people that they are the most important persona around second .. no not even that.. greater even than the bride and groom.. it is the most exhausting.. chaotic spectacle if there ever was one.. the only excuse for having one is that the photographs come out good.. and they did.. and that is a great relief..

soon enough the married couple left for their honeymoon.. and we were left with my cousin’s wedding to attend.. a complete study in contrasts to my brother’s wedding.. it was getting to be close to 10 o clock in the night and the bridegroom’s party had still not made an appearance.. when they finally did.. it was like a radiant riot.. a beaming bridegroom was perched atop a resplendent horse.. leading the way was a wild group of very happy gentlemen dancing with great rigour.. surrounded by a clan of made up and costumed relations.. bearers with blinking lights and a band that had enough energy and tunes in their repertoire to put U2 to shame.. they danced without a care in the world.. and finally pulled the bridegroom down from his mount and he shook a mean leg considering he was dressed in a most opulent garb.. finally a trace of exhaustion took over at which point they pressed towards us.. the welcoming committee.. with nary a pause for our welcoming garlands they dived through a long tunnel into the main gardens.. and proceed to the buffet while the bridegroom made his way to an elaborate stage and made himself comfortable on the left throne done up in red and silver.. at around this time my father who had gone to pick an uncle up from the Janwasa (House where the marriage party stays) arrived looking slightly wide eyed.. in everyone’s absence dacoits had struck the house hoping to decamp with all the valuables.. my uncle in true spirit had barred the door with a massive stick in his hand and held them at bay..

..barely a span of twelve minutes must have passed before the bridegroom’s gentlemen were ready to bogey again.. they descended en masse to a special disco floor with strobe lights that had been set up in the middle of the maidan.. the dj turned it up and Bollywood ruled.. it was a an amazing.. phantasmal.. glorious spectacle.. I was mesmerised.. no care of dignity.. no care of clothes.. no care of sweat.. no care of anything.. it was a spontaneous outpouring of energy and happiness.. meanwhile the bride made her slow way up to the thrones and garlanded the bridegroom.. the dancers did not bat a wet eyelid.. only the paparazzi merrily clicked away.. thankful that their view of the wedding couple was not obstructed.. finally the bridegroom could take it no longer.. and he escaped from his gilded perch and jumped onto the disco floor.. by this point I had been pulled into the mêlée as well.. since I was recently returned from New York.. it was his privilege to show me a few steps.. which he did.. encumbered though he was by his maharaja like garb.. but it mattered not.. he danced like the rest.. and I learnt some great moves.. finally the glittering ladies of our household joined in as well.. cousins.. aunts.. grandmothers.. uncles.. and yes even my wonderful mother.. they shimmied like Sridevi.. shook it like Shusmita.. bogeyed like Madhubala.. it was a spectacular spectacle..

and then boom!.. the floor finally gave way under everyone’s collective weight.. and the system started to croak.. no amount of pleading would make the dj churn another melody.. or the floor guy set to right his floor.. so everyone decided that they might as well get over with the marriage ceremony..

..everyone troops to the mandap (fire ceremony arena) sans bride and bridegroom and lo and behold.. the priest is missing.. a frantic search for the priest.. only to discover that in all the bonhomie and craziness no one ordered a priest.. meanwhile it is 4 o’ clock in the night.. someone remembers that they know a pundit who is a neighbour.. a wild car ride to his home.. and a very sleepy protesting pundit is wrapped into priestly looking garb.. bundled into the car and sped back to the venue.. but alas.. he is a pundit by caste.. he has no idea how to conduct a marriage ceremony.. but his presence is enough however.. he chants whatever matras he knows and the rest of the ceremony is conducted by assorted aunts and grandmothers who remember it from having been to similar events twice (or even more in some cases) every week (during marriage season).. and they are finally married..

an amazingly liberating experience for me and my parents.. the pressures that had bound us during my brother’s wedding had just now evaporated.. here was everyone out to enjoy.. no matter that the flowers were just the stalks of flowers fitted onto wire sticks.. no matter that the dust of the maidan was discolouring their silk and golden outfits.. no matter that the bridegroom probably ripped his golden pyjamas while dancing a la the latest Bollywood hero.. no matter anything.. egos were forgotten.. priests were forgotten.. ceremony was forgotten.. everything took a backseat.. it was a and pure unadulterated giving over to feeling and emotion.. and it was wonderful

of course these ceremonies have made me realize that I would never in my right mind ever even consider getting married.. but then I realize that there is no other reason on earth that an entire Indian clan would ever get together.. a marriage is a ceremony of continuity.. and no matter how removed.. how estranged.. how far you might be from the people and family getting married.. you have to make an appearance.. because that is the way it is damn it.. everyone wraps up their egos (or lack their of) in spectacularly gilded shawls and turns up hoping no one will peel them off in the chaos.. and their clothes and beaming faces will have made a presence.. it is also a realization that we.. all of us.. live in a community with all our faults and strengths.. and that we need each other more than we care to admit..

..it has been a spell since I wrote the lines above.. I have not been able to send this out.. but then this weekend another wedding happened.. my buddy KC married Rupa in a vineyard.. in a tent.. in the middle of nowhere.. with us and the stars as witness.. our friend Gautham from Albany made a very noble attempt at a wedding speech.. but was tackled to the floor when he came to the part when mentioned that he had shared a joint with the erstwhile bachelor..

..Life moves on with feet powered by lighting.. and whether we like it or not.. we get dragged along..

Summer is here in New York.. it has brought a lot of rain so far.. but when that ink blue sky is visible through the grid of our mighty metropolis.. we get reminded that our cocoon has a skin.. and that skin has something beyond.. but that is enough to know.. and we return to our New York games once more..

050330 - Bleat like a sheep Roar like a Lion

2005-03-31T01:12:00.000-05:00

What makes a sheep bleat? Is it a question.. a thought.. an answer.. or just because it IS.. I wish to be a bleating sheep.. for whose bleats there would be no reason (known to mankind).. and yet it would be universally accepted by one and all that it has perfect legitimacy to do so. I could bleat away the entire knowledge of the Upnishads.. the voluminous works of Shakespeare.. the mysteries of the pyramids.. and no one would know or care.. I would just be a prolonged millisecond of a bleat in the billennium of the life of the universe.. now that would be a true divinity.. to have bleated to ones hearts content.. all the mysteries, the knowledge, the trash and the mundane of the world.. and it is up to the other folk to pick up what they will.

Why this sudden desire to bleat?

I find myself to be very akin to a cartoon character.. I am living a cartoon life.. I mean this cannot be how people live and be.. and if it is then I have been immunized from the world all along (no wonder people looked upon me as a freak.. and I thought they were being funny). It is Dilbert one day and more the other. Are these people for real.. am I?

Whatever happened to passion and depth and thought and meaning.. in this world that I am now a part of these are applied attributes.. like a glazing on a cake to make it shine (the cake itself might be completely inedible). I am in an environment where architects (and god forbid interior designers) are trying to apply the essence of ‘modernism’, ‘minimalism’.. you name it.. without going through the theory or the thought processes associated with them.. they are sheathing a nameless, faceless entity in a whatever garb they or worse still, the client wills. I am a terrible misfit.. I make a face at everything and sneer at almost every idea that comes out of anyone’s mouth.. but hey!.. I know AutoCAD (that divine programme that only the Gods could have invented to decimate all human kind as they try to figure its archaic usage out).. I know PHOTOSHOP.. and wonder of wonders.. I even know what a PDF is.. and once in a while my theories and thoughts can be used as the spiel for the client.. One would have thought that by now architecture schools would have cut to the chase.. creating droids with the perfect superficial theoretical knowledge.. the perfect computer skills.. and armed them with a memory bank of ready to apply solutions for all the 51 design problems that they will ever encounter in their, what I am sure is going to be, very long and illustrious career. Can you hear my roar and can you hear my weep.. well it cannot be all that bad you say.. it is not.. I work from 9:00 (or in my case 9:12) to 5:30 (5:41) with an hour off for lunch.. and to be frank the business aspect of the firm is just overwhelmingly efficient. Their clients are the who’s who of today’s industry and my firm can actually afford to host margarita parties for the entire staff on a regular basis.. and we really do get paid on time.. unheard of in the firms I have worked with so far.. but true. Maybe I will just get swept away.. and bleat for the rest of my life.

In the meanwhile a vacation in California organized by my buddy Alexi with his family and his girlfriend Trina’s family was a trip into bliss.. snow bliss among others.. I found my snowboarding mojo on the slopes of Sierra and Heavenly.. and besides it was almost a home going to return to the nameless homes in California. We snowboarded on mountains without end.. on trails without beginnings.. we braved blizzards and realized the meaning of ‘vortexes’.. we dined on California wine.. we enjoyed the hospitality of a whirlpool in the wilderness of the Sierra’s surrounded by the wilderness and a creek.. which I was told one has to go down to barefoot and jump into.. which I did.. in sub sub zero temperatures and barefoot.. only to be told that this feat had never been attempted before.. the marks of the thorny poison bushes on my body and my frozen expression in the photographs is enough evidence that I will attempt it again..

One realizes as one meets more and more people around the globe that they are all quite content to be where they are (despite how strained and not stained the circumstances might be).. and at the same time very inquisitive. . one actually sees how remote every community is from another in reality.. even though it might be the most advanced or the most backward.. it is only out of an immediate need that any interaction (if at all) occurs. Everyone’s cheerfulness is in direct contrast to the knowledge of the greater world beyond and its variety and subtleties. To be frank I felt a little bit on display and yet at the same time very much at home.

But not to worry.. I roared like a Lion.. I was myself and more so.. with all my faults and all my subtleties (not too many I can hear you say).. it is with an open mind that I welcome the world and I hope the world does the same..

It has been an amazing snowboarding season with my SnowBuddies.. Bu, Chien & Aleberto. Every weekend we have terrified the skiers out of the slopes of Hunter and Killington on the East coast.. one only wishes there was snow here all the year around..

Another month and I shall be off to India to be at my elder brother’s wedding in the heat of the Indian summer.. our family has always stood for doing everything wholeheartedly and what more proper way to celebrate an Indian wedding that in the sweltering.. wilting heat when the mare itself has a faltering gait and can hardly carry the groom’s weight to the bride’s. But this is what Indian weddings are made for (I have told you the story of my friend Samir’s wedding when an entire procession of cars carrying the wedding party broke down in the middle of shantytown) and the storytellers have fodder for their yarns. Before that a quick trip to Halifax, Canada to renew my status as an Alien in this country.

In the meantime I have realized my status as a perishable commodity.. like a Chinese takeout.. like a 2 dollar New York umbrella.. like a raspberry lollipop.. like an Arizona sunset.. maybe it is enough that the feeling lingers.. it is not the personification but the imprint in the mind and the soul that one seeks (or not).. well to be frank I would not mind the personification as well..

My New York Mom, Mimi’s mother passed on.. I attend the Jewish ceremonies of a figure who was loved and who had traumatised in equal measure.. a true lady of her time it would seem.. she left behind an entire empire of art work and good will which we were surrounded with during the last days.. and which will find their way into the larger world very soon.

It is raining in my head and it will not stop.. Megha they call it in Hindustani.. it is a constant rhythm.. a constant beat.. a constant calling.. outside it is sunny skies and 21 degrees centigrade (much like you wish the Capitan would tell you at the end of a long air ride).. it is a good rhythm to keep me going and never stop..

Ola from New York..

050207 - To Be or Not To Be

2005-02-08T01:24:00.000-05:00

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..

040826 - Monsoon in New York

2004-08-27T01:12:00.000-04:00

A summer in New York.. turns into a monsoon in New Delhi.. so easy to be in two places at the same time.. or more.. we have had more rain here in a week than Cherapunji probably has had in a decade (just a little exaggeration there). It reminds one of back home.. except that the denizens do not shed their clothes and do a true bollywood song and dance number.. instead they mutter and moan and try to keep their umbrellas afloat in an ever increasing wind (the carcasses of umbrellas on New York City streets has to be counted to be believed.. besides all the others of course)

Spring came and went and no one quite knew whether it ever came,,

..ditto with summer.. we have had pool parties where the pool is an object of nostalgia.. of times when it was full of bodies splashing in wild abandon.. rather than now when a few brave souls step in for the ‘flavour’ of it all.. and have to be cryogenically defreezed after.

It is very quiet in this new home of ours.. which is rare.. not because the City tends to intrude upon it.. but because so many of you fill it with your laughter and your mirth.. I could almost say.. if only these walls could speak.. mostly because I remember in bits and pieces through a haze of great moments.

there was once a boy.. who never quite grew up.. not wantingly.. it just so happened.. but he had to deal with all the world like it was like a cocoon.. he never quite got out of it.. it was a transparent cocoon.. what could he do but delve in the world as he could with this thin film all around him.. never quite touching the other.. but feeling and seeing everything.. and interacting.. giving and taking.. taking and giving.. but always having a dream that one day the cocoon would become larger and larger till it would burst.. but it never did.. at least in his dream..

well.. maybe it is staring to rupture a little bit now.. the world sees Us and we see It.. or are starting to.. a strange and amazing discovery.. maybe it is too late.. maybe it is too soon.. maybe the rupture should never have happened.. maybe it never does.. though from the looks of it, it looks like it is a battlefield of ruptured cocoons.. some faring better than others.. some still flying with the shreds of their cocoons trailing behind.. these are the free or the not so free.. for is not ‘freedom just another word for nothing left to loose’ .. how corny you say.. but one realizes that the things most obvious and most oft said are probably the ones that have been the most tried and tested.

so the new maid was a disaster.. she could cook but could not clean.. I mean come on.. what do you expect for eight dollars an hour?.. she traumatized us with her uncleaning abilities and I guess we traumatized her with our Want.. why do humans disintegrate at the merest notion of multitasking.. it is the future Baby.. wait a minute what am I saying.. I am an Architect.. who was an Architect.. who became a Draftsman.. who became an Interior Designer (New York City you know).. who became a fashion victim (who set it.. I would say.. Fashion I mean).. who became a Furniture Designer.. well the saving grace is that one still has the word ‘designer’ figuring somewhere in it.. or is it really?..

One realizes that there is no true nobility in Living.. it is a grind.. the true nobility is in Enjoyment.. in Labour.. in Thinking.. in Being.. but One cannot be these without Money.. the barter system was so much better and easier.. at least the worth of what one gave was equal to the worth of what one took.. on the surface at least.. this translation into another realm confuses mystifies and demeans the very act Exchange.. however now that it is there One realizes that One most not look down upon it.. but run with it and make it something even greater than the barter ever was.. a system wherein ones very Souls are bartered.. how earth shattering.. and how not New.. it is a tragedy that the very systems we make are the very systems that threaten to become our downfall.

In other Hair-Raising news I was part of the Hood for a almost a week.. but then the pressure became altogether too great.. why is it that our hair (much like our nails) is the only part of our anatomy that is without feeling.. it would have been so much easier for everyone concerned if our hair had feeling.. so we might make it do as we willed (like our limbs for instance).. I can hear the barbers and hair dressers crying out in revolt already..

and two of my friends got struck by lighting in the Grand Canyon.. needless to say they have not been very grounded ever since.

We still have not got around to seeing Shakespeare in the Park this summer.. mostly because he is always rained out.. and I also suspect because of the word on the streets that he was really a woman.

We have discovered this amazing place called Wholefoods in the neighbourhood which has the most mindboglingly fresh vegetables and fruit in the world.. and a new ten dollar wine from Portugal which gives new meaning to under ten dollar wines.

in the meanwhile New York City is everyone’s favourite whore.. the republicans are using it this week to launch another tired agenda.. while the denizens spit and toil.. why is it that even though we are the ones who took the brunt of an attack that launched gazillions of dollars (and more).. the rest of the US takes the emotional credit for it.. and we are left paying ridiculously astronomical bills.. it is everyone’s favourite paradigm.. show it off it so you look great while that which is on display.. bruised and battered.. crumbles beneath its own (and your) weight..

Well c’est la vie..

It is past midnight now.. and I will bid adieu

040505 - Blink

2004-05-06T00:12:00.000-04:00

Blink..  and the world is in Limbo..  just for a

moment.. a moment you can make as long and as short as

you desire..  the insides of your eyes create a

Pause..  a suspension between reality and the dream..

between one reality and the next..  a pause between

Occurrences..  between Lives..  between Stuff.

We have found a Home..  woo hoo..  appropriately it

borders on everything and relates to nothing.  Between

Chelsea and Hells Kitchen, between the Garment

District and the Hudson River lies an oasis soon to be

called Home.  Two levels..  a massive courtyard.. one

and a half bathrooms..  a parking garage opposite..

and a soul called Mary.. make it a perfect blend for

further adventures.. or a respite from them..  to

quote myself..  I can hardly Wait..

I realized somewhere along the way that I have ceased

to care about other peoples’ feelings..  living Alone

one indulges with the Self..  the Others become a

canvas one paints on occasionally..  or a canvas that

spits back at you and tries to colour you..  but it is

a colour that can be washed off..  nothing sticks..

or if it does.. stays on in odd crevices that you do

not notice..  I am glad that I am on the road to

caring once again..  or is that too strong a word?..

I am on the road to being aware of other people..

strangely enough I am called ‘sensitive’ at the same

time..  but I have a feeling that this sensitivity has

to do more with Myself as opposed to the Others.

It is quite an enigma how being homeless all this time

was quite comforting..  in that I did not feel

displaced at all (my Life existence so far I am sure

has a factor to play in this)..  now the very thought

of being in one Place..  which belongs to Me unnerves

me..  hopefully I will get used to it..  my heart is

actually palpating at the thought..  my insides are

all undone..  and I can concentrate at nothing..

In the meanwhile I have played a very important part

in a life history..  I was Witness at a marriage in

City Hall in New York.  I went prepared with all the

vital ingredients to make a perfect match..  I arrived

with a box full of champagne filled chocolate (to

flaunt this ridiculous no drinking and no smoking law

in a place that ought be essentially a place of

happiness and mirth)..  needless to say by the time we

arrived in front of the judge we were all a little

unsteady on our legs..  the groom ended up telling the

judge that she was marrying off the wrong guy (she had

pronounced his very German name backwards)  and they

refused to accept Me as a witness since my signature

was shall we say too cool?).. we came away with

delightful memories of oddly intertwined couples

marrying for the moment..  photographs of signage that

belonged in an Orsen Wells novel and thankfully a

marriage certificate..  later we drowned our happiness

very architect like at the Royalton and the Seagram

Brasserie.

Where would I be without all those steady souls that

gave me hearth and home these past few months

(probably in a tent in Central Park)..  at final count

just the moves themselves comes to ten with a few

doubling in between them..

MaryMimiGaganMiriamRayaanAlexanderKadamNavalShireeshaDavidAnkitaChristoph..

 thank you and I have to say.. Shape up People..  just

kidding.. it is amazing what my friends are capable of

(dealing with Me) ..  and One cannot hope for a better

set..  Of course if I had a free run I would have

changed a few things while I was there.. but I am as

amazed as you that I kept my council to myself.

Around me are packed bags and cartons and in this

midst I write farewell to a phase which was

adventurous and exquisite and welcome another which I

hope will bring a tinge of stability and saneness..

Well Time has caught up..  since technology is still

to catch up with moi..  those last words were not sent

out..  all the better probably since I would like to

add that the new Home is amazing..  a true Oasis in

the midst of madness.  Almost all the cartons are

unpacked now..  though there are a few lying

underneath the staircase which we have no clue what to

do with and where to store.  As always the streams of

Life keep flowing..  my sister Bubbles is soon to

bring forth in this world a Life called  Esha..  we

are counting the minutes..  I have, after the Pause

familiar icons around me once again..  they provide me

meaning and connectivity.. since I am almost Nothing

without my Past.

The fires are burning ones again and the machines are

all charged up..  our Home is Yours and we hope to see

you leave your imprints upon it very soon.

much peace

040217 - Placelessness

2004-02-18T01:21:00.000-05:00

Placelessness..  I thought I would delve into the

depths of it.  So I have been for the last few

months..  as if New Delhi.. Rajasthan..  Bombay..

Colombo.. London were not enough.. I became so in New

York as well..  I have been homeless for a while now..

 within the City too I move from home to home..

living in a myriad of neighbourhoods..  and

circumstances..  out of the proverbial Box.. as they

say.  It comes full circle this karmic cycle..

whatever you turn you nose up upon comes back to bite

you..  I actually lived in the uppermost tip of

Manhattan..  in that land mass to the east they call

Brooklyn..  and might have to in that scariest of

scaries.. the nowhere land to the west they call

Jersey..  Did not Buddha or the Like say something to

the effect that it is only when you give up all your

pretences that you achieve Nirvana..  well going by

what I am going through I am definitely on the fast

track there..  I just hope it goes fast because I am

loosing my patience and mind and sanity..  what use of

achieving this Nirvana if you are a vegetable when you

acquire it.

How does One describe an existence which if one were

to read about it would seem rather odd..  I think I

did a lot of justice to that aspect of it through the

lens..  my camera was a very capable chronicler of

this time..  specially in India..  and if you are

interested I would be happy to send you the site which

holds images from the trip.  India..  boggles the Mind

and the Senses and the Soul..  it turns so intensely

erotic at one time.. so crude the next.. and so

obscenely erudite the next..  needless to say I was

overwhelmed yet again..  strangely, this time I was

experiencing it as an alien-yet-not-one..  I mean I

belong to it..  and yet everything even remotely

mundane was new and mystically alluring (thus the

millions of cow and cow dung photographs)..  I was an

alien in my own land..  connected to it.. yet from a

million light years and thought processes away.  My

parents and brother would not let me go and make so

much as a dinner reservation on my own or buy a bar of

soap..  I was not capable..  I had crossed some

invisible Ganga to someotherland where I needed an

individual with me all the time to help me negotiate

the price for the crossing.  At one point I simply

became a mute..  nodding my head to everything that

was said and done..  a silent spectator to decisions I

would have been loath for anyone to take for me in

normal circumstances..  Even though one tries to play

down the accent and mannerisms..  one cannot escape a

very simple aspect which lies beyond..  the underlying

Instinct of every human to Know the others place..  so

much for being a Citizen of the World..  I think we

still have a long way to go before we achieve that..

thankfully.  Not to say that the experience was

unnerving..  actually it definitely Was..  but I am

really glad that there are places where one is alien..

 even if it happens to be my own homeland..  it gives

rise to Adventure..  which I am sure is a building

experience.

In the meanwhile the weddings I went for were truly

spectacular and precious..  my younger brother got

engaged in a ritual which involved a frightfull amount

of chaos and good taste which we were only too ready

to give but the takers were not too worthy of..

..and my best friend got married in a frenzy of a

whole convoy of cars bearing highly bejewelled

cousins, aunts, grandmothers, uncles (yes..  even the

uncles are bejewelled in India) breaking down en route

to the wedding in the middle of a shantytown on the

outskirts of New Delhi..  rather than being mugged by

the populace.. they pushed-fixed-polished-blessed our

vahans (cars)..  and we were on our way for our tryst

with the strikingly beautifull maiden from Bombay

(albeit reaching in true Indian Standard Time (two

hours late)).

Colombo turned out to be a taste of absolute

serendipity..  an island of tranquility in an

otherwise very crowded trip.

and then London..  with the dollar the way it is right

now it is a wonder I did not walk from the airport to

my sister’s place..  you see the greenbacks disappear

faster than a New York minute..  but then London is

the perfect transition between India and Columbus’s

almost India..  Heathrow has probably just as many

Indians as New Delhi Airport..  is just as chaotic and

dirty..  and London has just enough curry to make it a

perfect sleep over.

Not to say that India was anything near sleepy this

time..  it was renewed India I saw.. vibrant and alive

and roaring..  it was like a bejewelled, aristocratic

decaying maharani had suddenly turned over  in her

opulently decaying bed to display all her cards..  and

pictures they had on their faces all.  It really was

as the government sponsored propaganda machine

proclaims ‘India Shining’..  a land which holds the

promise of the future..  I cannot wait for the next

hand to be dealt out.

Continuing in the tradition of nobelese oblige I was

mugged twice.. in Stockholm earlier on in the year and

then in our very own New York..  I feel rather blessed

to be contributing to the general welfare of the

worlds have nots..  but I wish they would mail back my

wallets of which they will never appreciate the true

worth..

Since I have returned to the City.. every weekend has

been a snowboarding adventure with a SnowGuru called

Bu..  a nazi on the slopes (we went to Lake Placid

last weekend) .. and to whom I blame all the assorted

bruises on my body..  plus my striped tomato face..

but it is pure freedom itself..  every minute away

from the slopes is torture..  my computers cache

memory is clogged with snow associated data and

paraphernalia..

The candle is almost at its ebb (you wonder do you

not.. where I am living right now..)..  let me say

goodnight to a host of amazing souls who have offered

me hearth and home and continue to do so..

there are a lot of stories and reminisces..  but I

shall wait till we meet again to unburden them all

lest you grow weary of this never ending barrage of

words I put you through..  and I am sure when we meet

we shall create some of our own..

Be well

030821 - Pakeeza in New York

2003-08-22T02:12:00.000-04:00

Exasperating, infuriating, irritating, aggravating, mind-boggling, mind-numbing, beautiful beautiful India. One would never have imagined that a two month stay would be too potent a mix for the hardiest.. but so it is.. I have drunk my fill.. I have realized that I will drink.. in memory and from a distance (many continents removed) rather than from within. I have much respect for those who brave its beauty and pleasures as also its corruptibility and madness from within. I am not worthy. Pakeeza in New York is much more fulfilling and meaningful for the creature that I have become..

Many lives ago I would listen, on the gramophone (His Master’s Voice) in Lucknow, at my grandparents house, to the songs of Pakeeza. All these years I never once saw the movie. Tonight after twenty or more years I saw the picture itself. The imagination yearns to create moments appropriate to the sentiments it thinks it is hearing / experiencing. It was quite mind-altering to see how far removed I was from the original. It was nostalgia misplaced.. I created a world that did not exist for an emotion expressed in a completely foreign context.. almost it would appear the beginnings of a creative mind.. Sentiment, apparently, once it is expressed gets a life of its own and the situations it can express are myriad.. depressing and very releasing at the same time.. needless to say it is refreshing for the sentiment to be proved wrong.. Creation can go on..

It is hard to remember the visit in its entirety.. one remembers moments and instances.. India has changed and keeps morphing and mutating.. My parents new house thrives because of their stubborn fascination of staying where no man has stayed before. The garden is in full bloom because of a servant with an amazing green thumb.. he prefers gardening to cooking and cleaning and they just let him be..

India was a yearning.. something I had missed so terribly.. like all yearnings, I have to say that the object failed to satisfy the Yearn. My family was as exuberant as ever.. however the milieu was like that of a picture I had visited and lived in and yet had faded.. or had changed in some crucial aspect which was unfathomable to me.. for the first time I was Lost.. I think I had changed or All had changed.. a two month stay should have been enough to have found broken threads.. but I think I heard the Snap this time.. I had always thought I was a person adrift.. my trip confirmed and reinforced this notion.. I was not meant to belong to any place or anyone.. I was truly Lost or more devious still in the karmic evolution of Life.. I was Found. The Monsoon and the Mangoes were absolutely awe inspiring, the former in its majesty and colossalness and the latter in their flavour and range and sweetness.. something I had not indulged in so rapturelessly for years. While it was very disorienting being in an environment where everyone was dark haired (specially after spending some time in Sweden) I had completely forgotten how many of the Indian populous supported mustaches – men as well as women.. extremely disorienting. But then it is just about impossible to describe the flavours One indulged in.. the Food, the beauty of the People and the diversity of the Land.. I find myself going into raptures like one of those travel books which are so so passé.. but it is True.. and maybe I have ended up becoming more removed from the land of my birth and more Of It with each visit.

Ahhhh.. the Sweet Sweet escape to Manhattan.. my City, my Citadel, my Planet, my Life.. but it was not to be.. Darkness struck.. it was supposed to be mayhem.. but it was Not.. it was Life.. it was Freedom.. it was a Celebration.. while it was potent reminder to me that I may never escape from power cuts and claustrophobic crowds and to the powers that Be that no one is beyond Murphy.. it was a joyous heralding of a homecoming.. the effects of which are to be seen nine months hence..

Manhattan remains an Enigma.. a contained One that I explore at my own risk (and others).. The only public spots that remain where one can smoke in peace are the New York Taxi cabs and the hooka bars on the Lower East (unlike London where I partied (and lit up) till the wee hours with much abandon on the cobblestones of SoHo.. and no one batted an eyelid and furthermore joined me)..

It is the Love one shares with a true Lover.. self destructive.. and infinitely rewarding.. if One surfs it well.. One might still Escape.. to where.. I do not know.. but that is the Beauty of it.. and probably the Undoing.

Anywhoo.. I am back.. I am well.. no the Tree wedding did not happen because of complications with the Tree and the Jyotishi (Future Reader (for want of a better word)).. my architecture projects are going slow, but going strong.. my projects with my parents in the Railroad business are seeing the light of day.. the apartment is alive and awaits your presence..

Salaam from New York

030512 - Morphosis

2003-05-13T02:12:00.000-04:00

The wind blows strongly on the New York streets this evening.. a sign of change.. not that this City needed any such propellant.. but often Nature comes across in garbs to colour the morphosis in a multitude of hues which in itself provides a platform for contemplation.

Did I say morphosis?.. my own personal one begins too, because I to be married off to a Tree.. a tree you say.. and I say.. yes, that is what I said.. a Tree? The verdict was given half way round the globe (from me) after consulting the planets and the charts and the fates that be.. It is not safe enough to marry right away.. the first marriage Must be to a Tree.. a tree I say? (and so do you) and the answer is ‘So it has been Said.. so it shall be Done’ I stumble and I gasp and I investigate and I find that Mars is in the 10th House in my horoscope. It makes for me being aggressive and demanding and essentially a not very nice first marriage.. but apparently this Tree in question can take this attitude very well.. so there we go.. I am to marry a Tree.. no questions to be asked (or answered for that matter). Strange are the ways of the learned in India (maybe I am not worthy). What does one do in such a case? Well, as my friend suggested, I should find a tree ‘whose apple has not been picked’. But then apparently I should not be silly, ‘they don’t really mind’. Have you ever walked on a precipice towards the unknown not knowing what is going to befall you?.. well in this case I am to walk through this precipice and know what is waiting for me at the end.. a Tree! What are my obligations here?.. does she stay with me after marriage?.. Do I stay with her?.. what are my views on pollination?.. would I be considered a cannibal for eating the fruit?.. the mind is powerless against the possibilities.. will I even be considered human after this is over (though it would be kind of nice to create a kind of separation from the human race the way it is going right now). Maybe therapy can help.. for Mars or for me.. I will accept either. Needless to say none of you are invited.. though my wonderfully cinematically inclined brother, I am sure, will document it till we are blue in the face or our smiles are all wooden (sorry.. terrible one there)

Since I got his news I have done much research and am now a certified member of CyberAstro which tells me how the planet configurations are affecting me today, for the week and the month and the year ahead and offers appropriate chantings to dispel the Illfavour.. Also I have discovered that two of my friends have been married off to Trees as well.. different species from mine.. but Trees never the less.. but they talk about it like they went in to the local grocery for a toothbrush. In true American spirit I am in the process of opening the New York chapter of BOTTS (Brotherhood Of The TreeS). Please do feel free to share notes and pointers if you are going to go through or have gone through a similar fate.

In other mind altering experiences I visited the Matisse Picasso exhibit at the MOMA which actually did succeed in altering the Mind.. it was spectacular.. it is always wonderfull to be swept away by the power of peoples’ visions, complications, contemplations, fights and talents.. and the imagery succeeded admirably in doing all this and more.

Also I rowed a boat at the lake in Central Park and realized I have to work on Mars.. or rather my companions realized it for me.

and most wonderfully of all a friend of mine closing up home Upstate gave me a part of his indescribably rich and delightfull library.. which results in no walls being seen in this shoe box I call home.. but also on the beauty and depth of the written word.

Well that about sums up a part of it.. the architecture is madness.. I would have it no other way.. a project of incredible beauty is on its way.

In the meanwhile I have digressed a little bit and am part of a company which provides consultancy in railroads (my parents and uncle formed this enterprise and I am now one of the directors).. soon we will be spreading our rails.

India beckons as always and I will be there for the month of June.. an update on that and maybe a visit to old stomping grounds in Europe to follow.

030403 - Chimera

2003-04-04T23:21:00.000-05:00

Drifting in a sleepless chimera.. the horse buggies clop clop down the street outside returning to their stables near the Hudson. Everything is unsettled with the world and by default with me. Projects, thoughts, energies are all in a state of fleetfulness.. you try and pin something down and it rises to the air again, the way similar poled magnets can never come in contact.

It is strange to think of a land I had lived in for while being leveled by bombs right now.. the people being scattered.. places and faces I had once thought of revisiting never to exist again. There is no pain however nor grief for a memory’s solidity eroded. I seem to have removed myself from the past as seamlessly as I have relocated myself in whatever continent and garb I chose to. It would almost appear that these places only served as a setting for my lives to play out, they were recorded and then they ceased to have any attachment whatsoever. Makes me sound a trifle cold blooded. But I would think it is also because the physical immediacy of the destruction has not hit home yet.. living as I do beyond the world of the television and moving images. When the places of my childhood pop up in the news or in conversations they appear as they have always been in my memory, without all the bloodshed and gore that they are probably seeped in right now.. is it a mind’s refusal to comprehend a reality? Or is it because reality has become so fake that the mind cannot register.

Meanwhile New York is about as silent as beehive.. the endless drone captivates and carries the masses to new madnesses and meaning.. and One just gets swept away in the tide. A break is in order.. India beacons. Plan to be there in the heat of the Indian summer.. all the more to get swept away in That madness.. and just for a little bit of respite between the two.. Europe.

I hope to update you on my travel plans soon and possibly reconnect as I make my way across time and lands.

030309 - La Chaim

2003-03-10T01:12:00.000-05:00

The Face is Red (like a tomato), the bones are weary (like a 121 year old) and the body aches in places unheard of in the annals of medical science.. another weekend snowboarding. Bu suggests to me that I ought to be putting more weight on my heel rather than my toe.. a new concept in snowboarding for me.. looking down when all this time I have been snowboarding looking up!.. I work at the Change.. but the mind is conditioned for something else.. it is all Physiological Chien shouts.. and Voila!.. it is!.. how amazing that the mind still controls the body in the most physical of exercises.. the moment the mind gets an inkling of Fear.. we are undone.. the result of course is Pain. Pain.. such a wonderful Elixir to make one realize that the Body is still Alive and kicking.. specially when it comes with the thrill of the snow, the wind, the definitely more than 46 degree incline and the sun (thus the tomato face). In a City where the body is abused more than used (and I would argue the same for the Mind as well), it held the same orgasmic delight as a Baked Alaska, a garam aloo partha, a cognac aged a million years.. I can just hear it now.. those voices out there suggesting that the daily trip to my gym is obviously jading me to the real trips in the world.. a mountain climbed.. a shipwreck discovered.. Antarctica flagged.. and a pilot’s license under my belt. Whattodo? and WhatdoIsay?.. one takes what one gets.. though I have a sneaking suspicion I do it the other way round.. One Gets what Ones Takes..

Who has the Might has the Right.. the End shall justify the Means.. the same thought in varied languages.. the world appears to have moved on from a sense of Right to a sense of Might (or has it always been this way).. since the Mighty always dictated the Right?.. and the result now is of course that middle class morality dictates the Right.. the Mighty have since transferred this cloak to them, confident that they will wear it (even though it is in taters) as a garment of some sacreditude. The mighty play their games and move the pawns.. untouched and unblemished on their own.. and the legions answer.

I would have thought that a country besieged would act differently.. but it is curious to see us all planning and plotting like there is a Tomorrow.. it is a confidence built of Might and Right.. a dangerous juxtaposition if there ever was one.

A little bit of pre spring cleaning in this ten foot by ten foot slice of air I call my home in the City. I find myself unable to discard memories that are long gone and ought to be swept away. They have been under the carpet so long they have become one with it, working their way into its patterns.. maybe that is why One finds Oneself unable to get rid of them.. they are patterns that one are so used to, throwing them away would change Life itself.. and heaven forbid we have more of those.. they are almost like a comfort or a pain one has indulged in and cannot let go.

Enough of this though.. let me fill you in with my little pleasures.. my architecture projects are off the ground.. what can I say.. they are vibrant, alive and full of every feeling that one ought to experience in a lifetime. The lot of the Architect is to go through these mini lives throughout their lives. My wonderful Lobby progresses.. the stone as at the port from Italy, the metal is waiting for word from us in Oregon and our Spirits are high. The wild shapes I created in another are the cause of many a heart attack and are the talk of every tongue.. Creation continues.

Our chimera’s keep us awake and Alive.. to do what has not been done.. to undo what has been Done and do it Different.. and repeat and relive in the process all the passions and emotions lived before. it is great Cycle.. and one would hope we live it Well..

La chaim..

030205 - The Hunt

2003-02-06T00:21:00.000-05:00

A month gone by in a new year and already the world appears to have rotated faster than a spinning top.. New York’s deafening cold has given way to something so mild by comparison that we have shed to our kinis, a veteran space shuttle bursting over our very heads.. makes one realize how ill equipped we are physically for where are Spirits want to go..

..And then of course, yours truly has given up the spirits (one can only hope it lasts).. At parties you are looked upon as antisocial.. that someone can dare break this elaborate ritual of getting high and conversing without having a clue the next day as to what was discussed or exchanged during an evening of no inhibitions. You find yourself giving what you hope are beatific looks to people and taking snapshots on everyone’s newly acquired ‘digital cameras’.. images that capture a sense of these events and are promised to be emailed to you the next day.. but never are.. from embarrassment or what.. one can never say..

Habits are so easy to break, it is a great disappointment.. I had to do without my cook for an entire week (he refused to return my calls).. and now I cook for myself. In this City where everything changes faster than snap, one would think that one would be able to depend one’s own indulgences.. but it is not to be.. you become as shameless as the City itself.. your quirks and attitudes.. your Habits are with you the one day and gone the next.. you fight to understand and find yourself wanting.. One realizes that one must hold on to Nothing.. it is better this way.

In the meantime this perilously enchanting journey called Life has reached another Plane. The mothers and fathers, the unwed-brides-brides-to-be and the grandmothers and grandfathers, the uncles and the aunts, the cousins and the friends of the family, have united for a common Purpose.. the one Event that will change their Lives and create others in its stead.. the Marriage. It is the culmination of everyone’s dreams and ambitions.. it is the one Party that will change mankind for ever. One feels like Stag in a Hunt. The aforementioned are the Chasers and one runs like the Stag. It is a spectacle worthy of a Shakespearean drama.. the stag runs for its life, never so majestic and proud as it does feel then.. and the clamour of its hunters not so far behind. Once it is snared, killed, stuffed and mounted, who is to say who got the better deal.. the stag looking down from its stuffed perch for all eternity or the hunters of who’s bravery many ballads are sung.. One realizes that ultimately it is the perspective that matters.. of which there are multiple.. and each has something to say for itself.. the Hunters were once the Hunted.. and now they must taste blood.. not to make this entire ritual sound so macabre.. I have to say from the perspective of Me, it is Life.. and I indulge in it willingly.

The Architecture continues very satisfyingly.. despite Clients and Contractors and the Forces that be.. If One really wants to nurture an Idea.. Nourish it.. feed it and water it and see it bloom, while all else is hell bent on seeing it grow twisted and bent.. on should be an Architect. Was there ever a time, one wonders, when an Idea could be personified/realized without any chink.. I think not. The Idea must have had to go through the fire and ice of Conflict to reach fruition.. and so it is. I have been called all kinds of names in the process.. Rohan, Ro, Rohits, Rowhat.. the list goes on.. I have to admit Rohits is the one that appeals to me the most (the American/Chinese/Mexican mind not quite grasping Rohit for its true powers).. it appears to be addressing a multitude of personalities all at one time, which is ultimately quite flattering.. and it is after all for the self aggrandizement that we are in this profession.. the personification of the Ego for all Eternity (or so One can Hope). Soon we shall see the personification of a wonderful Thought, right here in New York City.. images and commentary to follow (hopefully the commentary bit will not be necessary). Also there is another Aspect of Me in the Making.. which I shall fill you in on once it reaches some degree of Fruition.

The Days in the meanwhile are full of Ideas, Work and Toil.. and the Nights complement the Days.. the Joy of Discovery and Wonder continue.. and we are blessed for such..

021209 - Grasp

2002-12-10T02:12:00.000-05:00

Who would have thunk that Fall in New York would be so delightfully chilling.. but it is.. the ‘snow storm’ that came and went left its vestige behind.. the snow.. which adamantly sticks on to pavements, brownstones, cars, fire escapes and the omnipotent water towers.. a taste of more deliciously delirious snow storms ahead.. one can only hope..

In the meanwhile we bundle up and bundle down, dress up and dress down, work less and dream more, drink up and drink deep and think profound thoughts of what is not and what is yet to Be.. after all the Earth and the Sun would have us think that it is another Ending and another Beginning.. ah!.. those resolutions we have to start thinking of and working On.. One wonders whether it would make any difference if One tried correcting course Mid Way.. would that be too Early.. or too Soon.. after all there is no pleasure to be sought from something finished and perfect.. what a terrible terrible destiny.. such as with the Gods.. probably why they need the Demons to balance out.. in the Hindu pantheon at least, it makes One appreciate Krishna a lot more.. he ended up dictating an entire book on the Right Path while keeping his devilishness intact.. what do You call that.. PR?

Terrifying though, how the Devil has let loose in the most moderate of climes.. It is Omnipotent and bloodthirsty.. is the omen of a world gone berserk.. or simply a Berserk World finding its voice at last through terrifying actions.. One wonders how much more terrifying the berserk Thought is.. and how much more deeper and widespread.. after all it is easy to see one and the other Not.

Around here Emotions appear to have become as universal as Gap Clothing and probably as disposable.. It is the Age of Excess.. if not in Kind (the world economy being masha allah that it is) then definitely in Thought.. One may don one Avatar and slip out of it in a Day.. or in Moments (If one has to).. the Wolf becomes the Sheep.. and vice versa.. the Saint becomes the Sinner.. the Virgin a Whore.. the Addict a Hermit and so on.. it goes beyond emotions.. it is personalities that can be taken up and left at the drop of a Hat.. in a certain sense The Personalite has become Passé.. if you do not have a few (at least) stashed away you become persona Non Gratia.. the world needs to start taking a cue from the Machine now.. my Cell Phone is no longer a Cell Phone any more.. it is a day planner, an alarm clock, a video game, a camera, a calendar and of course an internet browser.. and it slips all these garbs smoothly one over the other.. Methinks humans are still struggling to keep up..

we are rolling along through the Valleys and the Mountains.. it is an Age where Innocence is a Rarity.. though Feeling is not.. Action is a Rarity.. though Thought is not.. Wealth is with the very few (in this case it is not different at all).. though Desire is Not.. Love is a byword for twenty four hour affairs.. what was There is not There anymore.. what Will Be No One knows (or Cares).. It is Confusion and Clarity.. all at Once.. a Revolution One would think.. but No.. all These are too Tame and too Mundane to bring about Such.. Methinks the revolution is going to be of a different nature.. Silent.. though loud.. all encompassing.. though only to those who listen and Feel.. and slowly the world will Grasp.. and probably Gasp..

But Wait.. what about Moi.. the person closest to your Thoughts.. I laugh now.. we create currents and we are carried in them.. and much like Bach, as long as we are airborne we are occupied.. ‘I do not live in a laboratory: I have no way of knowing what results my actions will have. To live my life for results would be to sentence myself to continuous frustration…… My only sure reward is in my actions and not from them’ Hugh Prather.

Be well..

021120- Upheavels & Such

2002-11-21T00:12:00.000-05:00

The Parents are come and gone.. in the wake of their going they leave behind an Upheaval.. there you are just running along nicely.. not a care in the world.. the birds are polishing up their vocal chords and the bees are picking honey or some such.. and then all of a sudden the Parents land up.. and the carpet is swept up from below your feet.. all that stuff that you said you were looking into and was in progress and yes yes I am taking care of.. is out in the Open.. no where to run.. no where to hide.. you are laid bare.. There is no real girl you can introduce them to and say you want to get married to (sometime in the future).. Your gym has closed down since that day you first applied for membership and you did not even know.. and the creditors just keep calling and calling.. and this time there is someone at home to answer the phone calls.. and soon.. very soon you are about to change your listing with the INS as ‘Illegal Alien”.. hey! I can gel with that.. I can jiggy with it.. half of my New York brethren are the same after all.

I Tried.. I realize they have to be sheltered from the harsh realities of Life.. I pulled up my pants to the highest and buckled the belt to the tightest.. The maid was under instruction to clean the deepest corners.. but there were some corners that she obviously did not sweep.. and the cook prepared his most calorie conscious / healthy meals.. but I eat too less ( Quote ‘ You look like you are starving.. who will ever marry you if you look like this’).. with Them, it is ‘Do or not Do.. there is no Try (Yoda).

So here I am now.. haven forsaken My Life Uptill Now.. I search internet sites for the best Alien Lawyer Deal around.. at parties (the ones that I am still asked to), I scrounge for information on how to make myself legal once I go out-of-status.. My friends (those very same people who give me the body hug and the kiss-kiss) now avoid me like the plague for fear that I might ask a lawyer-deportation question. But there are advantages.. ask me the state in the US which has the best Labor Condition Application turnaround.. and I can tell you sooner than you can say Whatsthat..

I feel Freer now.. more Knowledgeable.. I know that if someone says ‘Ahh A Green Card.. you can get that in months..’.. he is bluffing.. it is a long and devious process, fraught with peril.. your longest and dirtiest underwear is going to be flapped around in the wind for all to see by the end of it.. it may take a lifetime.. and what do you have at the end of it?.. a card (which I am given to believe is not even green) that says you can work here as you wish ( but wait there is a condition.. Only if you show your face up here for a period of six months very year).

When will it end.. these red tapes that stop humans from being what they are.. from doing what they want to do.. and being what they are and where they want to be.

In the meanwhile..

I have a new pet plant who does not appear to be getting along too well with his new environs.

My maid has left me saying that I am too whimsical about her timings.

My car (an almost present from a dear friend leaving for sunnier pastures back home) died en route from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia of a seizure in Breezewood, PA.

My cell fone is threatening to do the same very soon.

Thankfully I still have 50 000 miles with Swissair to take me as far as Europe on Economy, an unopened bottle of Portuguese red wine and friends who look in on me once in a while.. a mix just right to make Life worth living.

It is almost like staring again.. You think you have everything going hunky dory and suddenly the world shakes...

It is a New Life..

And I say Bonjour

020910 - Anatomies

2002-09-11T01:12:00.000-04:00

..I have realized that I am great at marketing. Marketing the Thought that I am beyond Age.. so much so that most of everyone I knew disregarded the fact that it has been a year since the Earth passed my marker longitude on the Sun.. Strangely enough I do not mind.. I suppose I get more Tolerant.. what a thought!.. for is not strife and incompatibility the reason for which we exist in the first place.. I mean what a world it would be if we all got along with each other.. a completely bizarre thought.. one to be extinguished immediately..

It has been a rather relaxing week.. I went swimming in the ocean.. the Ocean thought I belonged to It for a while.. and was sweeping me away to its inner depths.. I was quite ready for it to do so (to be very frank).. but then this very human virtue of Survival overcame me.. and I swam ashore.. to well.. Life.. and at that moment the weather and the surroundings become brilliant and seeped in meaning and colours and Beauty.. and the people and birds around expressly there as personifications of this.. Yet this happens seldom for ‘for it is often that I have noted that the way the world looks does not have a thing to do with what’s going on with people.’.. Robert Morgan. And it probably did not happen there too, but purely in my perception.

Talking of the brilliantitude of the world.. another life altering experience in the not to far past.. I went for an Operation.. I have never been operated on before.. so it was all new and exciting for me and I wished to experience this to the fullest.. I have realized that a certain amount of Fear creeps into you.. a fear of the unknown.. what if they remove your kidneys or your lungs while they are at it kind of thing.. and since this fear is not something that could be dealt with on a personal level.. I spread it around.. in the weeks leading up to the operation everyone around me was completely paranoid as to what was going to happen to me.. was I going to be maimed for Life.. would everyone have to deal with a maimed Rohit.. was I eating right.. was I sleeping in the right position.. and I realized that I had made my own fears everyone else’s.. and mine went away.. That was the first victory.. As I walked around New York on the days before.. I have to admit that I experienced a more exotic and more brilliant New York than I will probably ever see.. On the day of the Event I visited my favourite watering holes.. The Hudson was extremely reassuring.. there was the ghosts of Martinis drunk and Laughter spent.. a walk through Central Park topped that up.. all those unconcerned Nannies on their cell phones while the bambinos in their space-age perambulators bawled on.. all very calming.. I reach La ‘opital and who is there as a neighbour-waiting-to-be-anesthesiazed but Steven Hall ..it just had to be the architects day to be operated on.. a few needles in my arm by an amazing mix of very attentive and speaking-a-million-dialects nurses and a steaming hot sheet over me.. and I was ready.. well so thought my doctor too.. because the next thing I remember is waking up with my pajama strings undone.. she refused to give a straight answer about that one.. but I was alive and well.. and whisked away to my friends home with the minimum of discomfort.. a King for a day.. or for as long as I could pretend to be in post operative trauma.. I had a nurse that even Mother Teresa would be envious of (Thank you Shish)..

and Then back to the Life.. my fantastical Lobby has since been bid over budget.. so we go though the painfull process of cutting corners.. not in the final brilliance of it I hope.. another mini project which allows sporadic bursts of architectural brilliance shall hopefully see the light of day after wallowing for a year.. if only the world would allow Architects to build as they Dream.. but that would be unWorldly.. Compromise is the name of the game(As Charle Eames hinted).. a Game which breaks your Soul yet one which I am forced to admit creates a greater Architecture in turn.. let us wait and see.. Jeff just tells me the other day that the Seagram was to have turned green.. patinezed because of the weather.. how wonderfull would that have been.. but Mies misjudged his material.. Sadness..

So much more to Think.. so much more to Do.. and to Think that we have all the time in the World.. an Anatomy right now would be so appropriate.. but it is not to Be.. for we only get One when we pass on from this world to the Next.. my brother in New Delhi tells me of this Pre Cog he believes in now (shades of Minority Report).. India, I have to say had this down to an art long before the West ever understood it.. a Karmic Guru who is a mixture of an oracle and a physiatrist.. one who predicts the future and yet guides you with his knowledge.. We are so Eager to know where we Are And where we will land up.. it is almost our undoing.. but I guess that is what makes us Human..

to Life..

020721 - Networking, Everyone's Health and the Weather

2002-07-22T02:21:00.000-04:00

Here we are.. again.. at the middle of another year.. give or take a few.. New York is giant sauna.. and I must write again.. sometimes I wonder if You grow Weary of this intermittent Stream.. yet I do not.. so in a sense it is Half-fine..

It is strange.. when you are reduced to your bare minimum.. when you are Naked. .when the skin and bones.. and probably your flesh.. and all other physical matter have been taken away.. and only your Soul remains.. You become so much more objective and discerning.. more Truthful should we say?.. but that would not be right.. because who is to say that we do not create Realities for Things as we wish them to Be – and are They not the Truth?.. for what is Truth, but a Fiction created for a Moment, or a Need. Truth is often another name for Facts.. but Facts are merely numbers which can be manipulated as easily.. as shall we say the so-called Truth.. it is rather unnerving to realize that our existence can be objectified ( and quantified ) in so many parallel dimensions as to leave Us at a loss as to our True Place. ( I must say here that I would willingly strangle the creator of Microsoft Word.. does he/she not realize what an ordeal it is to write the right thing and then have to go back and correct it from what Word thinks is the Right Way.. if only we could create levels to which we need sophistication in our lives.. and we probably can.. but by the time we are through.. it is time for another overhaul).

Perceptions.. a wonderfully devious word.. what you have not seen.. or for that matter Seen.. can be your undoing.. it can be your Bliss.. or your Tragedy.. ( The problem is, of course, that one seldom recognizes the one from the other ). Just today I was trying to explain to Jeff what eating a Mango can mean.. ( He, of course, was eating a mango ( I have to admit.. it was a mexican mango) the way One would eat a banana ).. there was no talk of the skin, the colour, the texture, the smell and most importantly the Lineage.. it was like devouring a common prisoner.. a prisoner to ones appetite.. and I thought.. there are some who are Worthy.. and then some who are Not.

But then.. who am I to talk.. I experienced the New York Opera and will experience the New York Philharmonic at Central Park.. but I will make small talk and mingle rather than Experience.. what martyrs we are.. what we give up for society.. and what do they call it.. ah yes.. Networking..

Talking of networking.. the architecture goes wonderfully.. without the blindfold of self aggrandizement.. I have to say.. the project I am doing right now, is going to be Spectacular.. I had hoped to send you images.. but they will have to wait.. It is truly Poetry in Motion ( A theme from my architectural thesis in Minimalism).. One just hopes that that the client does not get cold feet at this stage (Bid Set).. it is such that You would want to come and lick the very walls off.. let us hope that my precious walls can stand that Adulation..

Speaking of Adulation.. reminds of a Traveling Willbury’s song.. ‘I was so much older Then.. I am Younger than that now..’ I find myself thinking of a Child as the most deceiving and manipulative of Beings.. as we move along.. we get less and less good at It.. we get more and more Pure.. and Unfinished.. ultimately we will be Away of these reasonings that we are born with and be Free.. unfortunately too late to make any alteration in our course whatsoever.. at a stage where we are unable to Do anything about it anyways.. this is out Tragedy.. we can either Live with it or make Babies Presidents (Come to think of it.. it might already be happening)

Physically I am.. as I said ‘Younger than..’ I still get carded.. and am looked suspiciously at for being too Young.. what can I say.. Youth came Late.. and it Stays.. so I am not complaining.. apparently in Today’s world.. as long as you can Fool everyone into thinking What you are not.. you are Acceptable.. people Laugh.. and feel Apologetic.. it is a wonderfull power that Youth gives ( Or the appearance of it anyways ).. and I am using it.. While I am able.. and beyond that Science works Its miracles.. Vive Le Science!

As I Mingle I meet Friends, Acquaintances.. they absurdly remind Me of things that I have said.. these should be kept for times when one is not present ( or in the highest of taste, when one has passed on). One lives for the Present.. Who wants to hear about the Past or the Future.. but the Dreamers..?

You ask why do I bore you with All This.. but is in the hope that when we Meet we can converse about something else But the unending Saga of Networking, Everyone’s Health and the Weather.

Much Bliss

020502 - Blurr

2002-05-03T01:12:00.000-04:00

Well.. how you say..  I Am back..  to where I belong..

though that is difficult to say now a days..  or let

me just say.. to this City to which Everyone and Noone

belongs

What is about this City that gives me such Peace.. is

it just the Age or is it Reality..?

.. or the constant Stream of Change that creates a

Permanance..?

India was a Blurr..  No I did not end up getting

married..  My parents house which I had designed at an

early stage is almost finished..  morphed by ideas and

reality into quite another Entitiy..  delightfull yet

painfull..  It has taken on a life of its own..

complementing that of my parents.. who are younger and

trimmer and more energized than I have ever seen them

( as if they needed any help ! ) .. Painfull because

it does not follow exactly all the tennets we

architects love to provide..  but so it must be.. We

all do Live to Learn.. or rather Learn to Live.. even

the worst of us do.. ultimately..

Physically all I got back was a magic carpet..  which

enthralls and caprtivates me every day..

Also realizations.. that I probably cannot exist in

India for ever..  just as I cannot exist anywhere

else..  A Nomad.. a Gypsy.. in Constant Motion..  Like

a roller coaster ride.. you get off.. and you are

happy..  and then you want to get on again after a

Bit..  it is great for now that the 'get off' is

Manhattan

Age.. you ask.. is it not catching Up..?  the Highs

get Lower and the Lows get Higher..  but what of It..?

 Terry ( in architecture school ) quoted some one as

saying that you need to Do / Experience at least

Thrice..  maybe at the end of all this I will be the

Wise Old Owl ( Ha ! )

.. in the meanwhile we fill our time with Work..

Travel.. and Friends..

Bon Chance..

011016 - I write and therefore I AM

2001-10-16T23:12:00.000-04:00

I write and therefore I AM..

so I think Now..

and it makes me wonder of the Others that make me what I Am ( at other Times )

.. I sleep and therefore I Am

.. I design and therefore I Am

.. I eat and therefore I Am

.. I drink and therefore I Am

.. I change and therefore I Am

.. I travel and therefore I Am

.. I cook and therefore I Am

.. I swim and therefore I Am

.. I look for Beauty and therefore I Am

‘ Just an ordinary man ‘ as Professor Higgins would say.. with very basic desires.. to live an ordinary life, in an ordinary setting, doing ordinary things.. this is a Desire..

and yet I live an extraordinary life, in an extraordinary setting, doing extraordinary things.. I see a Conflict here..

and as Wilde would say.. hopefully it will last..

‘Talking about music is like dancing about architecture’.. I read.. everything must be lived?.. experienced?.. touched?.. felt?.. what sailors of the sensory world we are.. where nothing can be told to be fully understood.. and how terrible that all This ( knowledge? ) can only come through personal intervention to make You the More.. places a lot of worth on age.. how easy it was for that ‘Perfect Human’ in the Fifth Element.. she just watched a few videos and she was done!

The soul, body and mind is a playing field for the opposing forces of age and youth right now.. Strike a balance you say?.. what is a Balance really?.. but a sea saw where the one side which is in the air is happy momentarily and then desires to be on the ground again.. how tragic that Age must be gained at the cost of Youth.. even Dorian Grey who attempted to keep eternal youth lost out in the end..

makes me think.. I believe too much in the superficial.. the obvious.. the appearance.. the problem with me is that I place them on a pedestal.. to be worshiped?.. why?.. because I do not have them?.. from heresy I gather I have them in great measure.. then what?..

it is because I must Loose them.. we must let go of things we hold most fond to let greater (?) emotions take over.. what a playing field we must be for Fate.. to let our slate be dusted and written over so easily..

Methinks I will not give in so easily.. I will stand by Beauty, and Superficiality and Obviousity as long as they want me as their admirers.. to give in would be against the human grain ( so to say)

But I am harsh.. Youth is not solely to be equated with all these.. it means much much more.. it encompasses a larger human State.. ‘Something as wonderfull as Youth.. and as hard to keep’ ..O.W. ..

which brings us to Grace.. Methinks this is a State ( quality ) which encompasses all states.. or rather transcends them.. it is rare enough to Find.. exquisite enough to Want.. and ethereal enough to be out of one’s grasp..

It is wonderful to have found my next longing through these writings You..

Bon chance

010905 - Hey There

2001-09-06T00:42:00.000-04:00

.. well it is the Time again.. the Month.. My month.. I am born again.. much against my better judgment ( I do not want to know about Anyoneelses )..as I approach The Day.. the whole world appears to be crashing In.. or Renewing.. that is up to judgment..

..I have the quintessential bottle of wine ( Malbec Norton 1999 ) by my side ..and my Vaio in front of me.. New York at my back and all around.. and of course the cigarette between my fingers.. as always when I light it the match box spills.. open upside down.. scattering matches on the window sill ( still no furniture.. except of course my wondrous bed.. I have a dread of furniture.. having moved so often.. I have dread of acquiring any possessions.. all the lesser to ground you with)

..well the Day approaches and I am in anticipation.. what will it bring this time.. for has not Change been terribly consistent.. it is Evolution which has stopped or Not stopped.. I do not know which.. it is naïve this Faith.. because I do not get sucked, really, through the time warp or anything.. and yet it is a Rock around which the seasons/ life revolves.. I have made preparations..

One.. I have given up excessive consumption of liquor

Two .. I have tried to distance myself from everyone I know

Three.. I have a new pet ( more about him/her later )

Four.. I have shaved my head

..Methinks this is preparation enough for such a momentous event.. but just in case the Gods are not kind.. I have made a decision.. I am going to do the One thing that is in my Power.. I have decided to turn 21 again.. There, I said It.. I have realized One has to put Ones foot down sometime.. And I am doing It..

Journeys.. I have had a few.. Holland.. Belgium.. Luxemburg.. India.. exhilarating.. all of them.. more people and places than one can put into the palm of Ones hand.. do they shape Me any better?.. do I look well traveled enough?.. this Sardarji came and sat next to me on the plane just as I am about to land in New Delhi.. face reader, palmist, footist.. says this is not the End.. I will be a Nomad all my life.. I am crushed.. I almost bail out of the plane right then.. more travel?.. more places.. more people?.. is this not enough?.. methinks I was almost definitely born in a Time Machine.. if not that, a Place Machine.. what would One not give for a little bit of Stability.. or is that too much to ask in this day and age..

Return to New York.. the City is unconcerned as usual.. what a Bitch.. then I realize.. I must not look for Feeling.. that is Passe.. its the Thought that counts.. the thought that my apartment rent has to paid.. as also the electric.. and work.. they Did really need another Body the months I was away.. that is the True meaning of feeling Wanted nowadays..

Sitting in Central Park on my favourite Rock.. by the water.. by the bridge.. by the tall grass.. the summer light making infinitely dreamy the passionate lovers on the bridge yonder.. New York like a medieval city all around ( yet in the distance ).. and I see the Swan.. readings about the swan rush through my mind.. ‘gracefull as the swan’.. ‘dying like a swan’ and so on.. and it Does look extremely gracefull.. but wait.. suddenly it does a do-hicky.. it is gliding along looking majestic and gliding and gracefull and all that kind of stuff.. and then it gives this decidedly ungracefull, unmajestic, ungliding kick..but only for a moment.. and then carries on.. gracefull and so on.. what a blow.. to me.. to popular thought.. to the Swan Lake.. to Culture I say.. and I think it cannot be that all of the aforementioned are wrong.. it is just that the swan is having a hard day looking gracefull and the rest.. or maybe, just maybe.. it is The One Legged Swan.. and it is trying to do its duty as best as it can.. what Spirit.. what amazing sense of commitment..

It is absurd to look for lessons in settings as sublime as that ( after all is not all Beauty transparent and superficial and merely for the senses) .. and yet One is powerless in the midst of it.. One can look.. and perceive.. and learn.. and return the greater.. or the Swan is the greater.. I do not know which

Happenings..

My interior project, through work, is seeing daylight ( albeit slowly ).. Major League Baseball offices.. very funky.. the Conference Rooms clad in fiberglass are straight out of a sci-fi odyssey.. though.. I would never again mix Chinese Red and Lilac as a choice of wall colours ( not my choice )..

My most amazing enterprise.. ‘House 71’ for my parents in New Delhi.. designed almost solely over the internet.. is on its way.. thanks in great part to that amazing spirit I call my Mother.. and the lucky charm that is my Father.. against anyone’s better judgment it has a lot of glass ( I am trying for a New York pavement look-alike mica-glittering concrete flooring ) and will need a team of gardeners working full time to bring it to its full potential..

the Weight is up a few notches.. and the waist down a few ( this can only be measured in the millionth of fractions)

after Fish froze to death on an abnormally cold December night outside a pub in DC.. I have decided to keep Low Maintenance pets.. I have Fly now..who come and goes as he/she pleases.. and reminds me of the Motherland

well Cheers to I.. and all of you.. the smell of my Casablanca’s in my apartment.. the bees are a buzzin’ and everything’s right with the world.. and if it is not we have lot of work on our hands.. and that is a good thing..