My Hazy Dream

Unfortunately, all I remember is the following transcript:

*^*^*^

(With a friend, sitting/walking around campus)
All of a sudden,
Justin: Hey! Look at that.
Friend: (looks here there, finds eventually) Wow...
Justin: (sigh...) Now thats something worth blogging about! (content smile - within and without.)

*^*^*^

And after that point, my memory draws a highly disappointing blank, though I distinctly remember that feeling of blissful highness upon sighting 'it'.
Thus, as had been declared by my very own self (inter dimensional boundaries, FADE!), I must do what I must do. Thats the least a forgotten experience deserves.

Here's my tribute to that which I cannot name.
For of course, it is the feel that truly matters. Instances of the feel just give it a name, a shape; the feel remains ever free, ever unbounded, ever present, waiting always and only, for the one.

Feel ke pujaari for life!

A Million Corpses on My Head, at first...

A rather geometric, semi circular moon reminded me tonight, of the inevitable two sidedness of all things in life. It was shining its normal self, following every rule in the book. But beyond its innocent knowledge, the clouds had schemed to bare the macabre just this once. Aligned in parallel curves of handsome length and enlivened by the unconditional grace of the moon, and perhaps a distant sun, they brought to life images of the holocaust, on their infiniteness bounding screens. Gracefull rows of blackness became the all too visible ribs of the lucky survivors. The mass closest to our monthly time keeper took the shape of a face disfigured.
Whilst witing this, sprawled on maohanda's rooftop, I tried in vain to find some semblance of life in the midst of death and all his friends. Unable to do so, continued writing.
THEN,
3.14159 minutes later, glanced upwards, and saw the ribs fading. Stretched my neck, and behold!
In front of my eyes was a baby developing in its mother's womb. The image that is produced by ultrasounds, it almost seemed to move with a life waiting to find its place in an inviting world. My original message, when I got down to writing this, was the essential duality that spares not even the celestial moon; how even that harbinger of things of love and longing, was made to witnesss the worst the world had seen; how its usually inspiring actions had today, in a personally unprecedented manner, opened my eyes to the darkest moments man has known. How, nobody is destined to a life of eternal, idyllic bliss. Bliss must be earned. Its value must be in realized and comprehended. Then came along that cheery little humanling!

Fading death and approaching life HAD to convey that universal message, which has formed the basis of man's existence at its lowest, most pathetic states; that, which from the time of Pandora had been His eternal gift to us. The essential beauty that enveloped every facet of our existence; that makes every day a song of praise; that which is visible in His eyes. That child, is HOPE.

From the Sun, with love...

Captured after a particularly grueling session of tutorials, this just made my day (night?).
Sitting in front of Mohanda's closed shop, staring at the spectacle captured in a moment of gleeful exuberance by my unassuming camera, wonderfully reminiscent of this, I couldn't help but let out that beautiful tear. Times such as these indeed are special.

Coming to what I read in this little scene.
The moon has been picked out of the void that had enveloped it since its birth. Its been shaken up, and in it has been breathed life; a life which it has just tasted for the first time ever. Imagine, that which has inspired a myriad poets and ballad-eers down on mortal earth, now finds itself looking upon us, with a sense of unprecedented belonging.

ANYHOW, inching ever closer to that which is the crux of this post.
So who in his right mind (or not) would have the audacity to do this with THE moon. The obvious answer is the Sun. Having done what it just has, what we have in front of us is a celestial flower, with the most graceful of stems, leading up to that halo-angelic body.

The Sun has found its match.
It has plucked up all the courage its fusing atoms could muster, and the moon along with it.
Flower in hand, it approaches the dame that has captured its imagination. It could be this, this or any one of those countless 'little' twinklers that adorn the sky and beyond.

To find out who, sleep tight, and maybe all will be revealed.

Cheers duniya (and you too Sunny boy! :)

On Work...

"The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die."
Thus spake Edward Kennedy.

I'm PRETTY sure thats exactly how those magically well aligned emptied bottles also felt, as they watched from the shadows, the scene of unadulterated fraternity and true worship of that which I call the 'feel'. The feel of course, is the single most influential player amongst all the wonders that make life alive, with meaning, purpose and beauty embellishing our every step.

I can imagine them breaking for the night, with a moment of perspective loaded introspection:
Alpha: "Look at them..."
Bravo, Charlie: "... Sigh"
Delta: "What was it that that Bachchan chap had written about us...?"
Echo: "Yes, our work here is done."

---

Cheers, to the feel that is the ras of our lives. Whatever it may be.

The light beckons

Enough said.

Awe...

stands defined.

At iimc

Outside the MCHV (Management Centre for Human Values), stands a tree.
At its base is a stone with the inscription:
"Perpetual giving up is the truth of life - Rabindranath Tagore"

And the tree stands there all day, all night, blissfully unaffected by the infiniteness that it stands upon. Not to mention, making a magnificent spectacle out of the blue evening sky.

Sigh.. Itna pyaara..