Words

Psychoanalysis of London and Delhi weather

  
If I were a psychiatrist, I would have treated London weather for dissociative identity disorder. (Fancy name for multiple personality disorders.) And I would have told her “You have some serious issues, Miss Murphy.”
Saturday was hot and sunny. Yes, this is an Indian guy saying it was hot. Sunday it poured for some time and then went back to being grey. Monday has been a drizzle so far with bouts of sunshine predicted as if the sunshine itself was some major affliction.
The weather back in Delhi is much simpler. Bipolar, mind you, but simpler. With Miss Singh, you know what you are going to get. When it is hot, you get baked. When it is cold, you freeze. When it rains, you soak.So basically you know how your next few months are going to pan out.

Here, you are not sure of how your day will turn out. The weather app becomes as much a part of your ‘what to wear’ deliberation every morning as the decision to take a shower or not.

But yeah, all said and done, it is fun. Delhidreams might even temporarily be turning into Londondreams it seems. Behn di blimey!

Comments Disabled

Ultramarine 

They say, It was a colour Michaelangelo couldn’t afford
And Vermeer loved enough to put his family under debt

The ultimate blue,

The blue to which aspired all other hues
Sourced from the mountains of Afghanistan

One grounded lapis lazuli into a fine powder

Infused it with melted sighs, wax, oils, pine resin

and kneaded it in dreams and diluted lye solution
Only then the ultramarine would come true

Brimming with minerals, riddled with puzzles

No two dabs the same, 

no two angles showing the exact same hue
All that is gone now

Now it is just another colour in the palette

A hundred percent pure hue

Available in a synthetic tube

No wonder its sharpness stings the eye

And Michaelangelo looks down and cries

Because when we dissected it, synthesised it, batch-produced it

We also took away its impurities, imperfections, individuality
Dear heart,

Let my love be not too pure a love

Let it have a doubt of green in it, a folly of yellow, a stab of red

Let it be the ultramarine of an age gone by

Full of imperfections, inconsistencies, a thousand blues in a single hue

But to itself, only true

-adee, first drafted on June 09, 2015. Inspired by an article i read online, the practical details are by the original author, i’ve taken some liberties with emotions.

Comments Disabled

What do you do with 228 watts and 9 and half years?

  
In less than 60 minutes from now, an object having one-fourth the wattage of a common hair dryer will reach the only planet in our solar system unexplored by space probes. It has traveled more than 3 billion miles since its launch on Jan. 19, 2006.
It’s the epic journey of NASA’s New Horizons space probe and it forced me to think. A real, hard ‘think’ about my career and relationships.
Sometimes, in our mad rush to make the most of now- the current project, the quarterly report, the yearly increment, we forget the importance of little, day by day improvements that we can bring to our life. Sometimes, we really need to take a big step back and see where we were and where we are going in life. And yes, to realize that more often than not, it is the things we do on a daily basis that will get us where we want to be.
Think about it. Where were you, what were you doing 9 and half years ago? And where you will be on Jan. 14, 2025?
Meanwhile, plz do check this website. Image courtesy: pluto.jhuapl.edu/index.php
The countdown has begun 🙂

Comments Disabled

पतंग

बच्चों की सी ज़िद थी उसकी
“मुझे पतंग उड़ानी है”

और वो भी रात में!

पूछा, तो बोला के

“रात में पेंचे नहीं लगते न”

अब कौन समझाए उसको

के इस विदेशी शहर में

चरखी-मांझा मिलना कितना मुश्किल है

और नामुमकिन है रात में चमकने वाली पतंग लाना 

पर दिल से बड़ा कोई बच्चा नहीं

ज़िद थी, माननी पड़ी

यादों की डोरी ली है लम्बी सी

(क़रीब आठ बरस लम्बी)

और चाँद बांध दिया है उसके साथ

तुम्हारी छत तक आएगा, देख लेना

उचक के लिख देना नाम उस पर अपना

और लहरा देना फिर से हवा में

तुम्हारे हाथ जो छूकर आये चाँद

तो दिल को सुकून रहेगा.
-adee, sometime during the night of 05.07.15.

1 Comment

The hottest day of the summer, a failed social excursion and a new poem and photograph

  

some look above and some below, 
some look to the days ahead and some to the ones long ago,some are blind with open eyes and some see so much without their sight… 

the madman roams and raves and endlessly regrets, 

“what you look is what you get”… 

what you look for, is what you get. 

-Written while traveling in bus number 46 on a sultry London evening.
It touched 30 degrees today. Fans were on in the office, everyone was panicking about the heat wave and I was thoroughly enjoying it. I think it was the fans which did it, reminded me so strongly of home.Having a pint of beer before lunch has become a daily affair now and it might continue as long as the sun shines. I hope it doesn’t turn me into an alcoholic or a pot bellied middle aged man before my time! Plan to walk to and fro office tomorrow onwards. Don’t know if it’ll be possible though. Had to break my consistent exercise-yoga schedule today morning…just didn’t feel like waking up. So even after getting up around six thirty, I kept lying till seven. And then also got ready reluctantly.

Was supposed to go to the Canada Day celebrations with two of my colleague-friends. They left minutes before me and though I went after them till the Queensway station, couldn’t get in touch with them post that. Waited for half an hour, called, texted, mailed but to no avail. As Lancaster Gate was nearby I decided to walk the ten odd minutes to it. Felt nostalgic on walking through the first place I’d settled in after arriving in London- Corrus Hotel, Hyde Park gates, Bayswater road, so close to Shiela’s cafe but it would have been closed by then, as it was past seven. Was tempted to walk till Paddington and have dinner at the Flavours of India and relive my earliest dinners in this city but somehow didn’t go. Instead took the bus and came back home. It felt like retracing the steps I’d taken when I was finalising this place to rent. I’ve completed my three months here and it was the first time that I’ve had a feeling of nostalgia associated with a place in London. In the coming months and maybe years, I’ll look at all these places and tell myself or someone close to me, look this is where I first lived/roamed/ate/worked when I moved to London…it’ll be fun.

It is so hot that for the first time I’ve fully opened the windows. I hope the gentle breeze that’s blowing now continues throughout the night because without it, there’s no chance of getting a good night’s sleep.

1 Comment

How to be creative on a Sunday afternoon

  
Make plans to go outside

Drop them if it’s raining 

Gather the world in your head

And steep into life

Like tea leaves in water

Let others remember your touch

At the tip of their hearts

-adee, June 28, 2015 @delhidreams
Half past one on a beautiful Sunday. It was raining outside. I wanted to go to the Hampstead Heath and spend time there enjoying the family day celebrations. An Indian, more specifically a Rajasthani band was supposed to perform but I wasn’t sure if anything would be on as the rain became more than a drizzle. Anyways, I made a cup of Yorkshire tea and was reading this insanely good book ‘How to Stay Sane’ by Phillipa Perry. This poem arose from the deliberations I’ve been having with myself, about doubting my creativity and the nature of creativity itself.

1 Comment

Rain and Britain

रेन एंड ब्रिटेन
बारिश और ब्रिटेन का अजीब रिश्ता है. यहाँ लोग बारिश से चिढ़ते हैं, डरते हैं के कहीं उनके कपड़ों, जूतों और वीकेंड प्लान्स की तरह बारिश उनका भी कुछ बिगाड़ न दे.
कल शाम मैं ब्रिटिश म्यूजियम में था. बाहर निकला तो देखा लोग डरे-सहमे, गलियारे में दुबके खड़े हैं. लगा जैसे सड़क किनारे पैदल यात्रिओं की भीड़ कोई एक्सीडेंट देख रही हो. मैं भी डरते-डरते आगे बढ़ा, देखा बारिश हो रही थी. भीनी-भीनी, मन मोहनी. अपने पास छाता होते हुए भी लोग निकलने से कतरा रहे थे. मेरा पास छाता नहीं था, और मुझे घर जल्दी पहुंचना था. सुपरमार्केट से होम डिलिवरी होनी थी नौ से दस के स्लॉट में और मुझे पता था के वो नौ के करीब ज़्यादा होगी बजाये दस के. टाइम और ब्रिटेन का भी अलग रिश्ता है, पर वो किसी और पोस्ट में. एक बार तो मैं भी भीगने से डरा, पर फिर जाना था तो जाना था. मैंने म्यूजियम की ऊंची सीढ़ियां जल्दी से पार की और ये देख के खुश हुआ के मेरे साथ-साथ तीन-चार और लोगों ने भी हिम्मत जुटाई. ये अलग बात है कि कोई भी गोरा बंधू नहीं था हमारे बीच.

जैसा मैंने ऊपर कहा, बोहत ही प्यारी, मीठी सी बारिश हो रही थी. म्यूजियम से बस स्टॉप तक की बारह मिनट की दूरी मुझे खूब भायी. सड़कों पर लोग कम थे, गाड़ी वाले और भी संभल के चल रहे थे और लंदन शहर की बत्तियां ज़िंदा होने लगीं थीं. और अचानक मैंने खुद से कहा, बारिश तो हुयी ही नहीं!

सच बताऊँ तो बादल भी यहाँ बरसने से कतराते हैं. बस एक छोटी सी, हल्लो, हाउ डू यू डू, प्लीज, थैंक यू कह के निकल जाते हैं. पिछले कुछ दिन से फेसबुक पर अपने दिल्ली और मुंबई के दोस्तों की बारिश वाली अपडेट्स और फ़ोटोज़ देख रहा हूँ. इसे कहते हैं हॉप हिप-हॉप वाला प्यार. हर कोई बावला हुआ पड़ा है बारिश के प्रेम में. लगता है हर किसी का अंदरूनी नेशनल जियोग्राफिक फोटोग्राफर जमा वर्ड्सवर्थ जाग गया हो. और देखिये इस बावलेपन के जवाब में बादल भी कैसे खुल के बरसते हैं. 

लगता है सिर्फ प्रकृति का ही इंसान के स्वभाव पे असर नहीं होता, हमारे दिल से भी बादलों के दिल धड़कते हैं. क्या कहते हो इस बारे में यार?

-adee, June 13, 2015

Comments Disabled

City Morning

Morning rush hour

i sit fidgeting 

in the upper deck seat

the bus idling

while the traffic lights play 

their little game of chess

red green 

amber red.

And we thought,

we had that thing called free will?

The eyes roam

spot a seagull above

circling in the grey sky

and suddenly

the sun alights on its wings

sharp, golden, piercing light

and all that is opposite 

of heavy and dark.

Isn’t this is what the mornings are made of in a city

traffic lights

time, and

hope?

Comments Disabled

Birdsong

the clock

Late Monday evening

I’m home early.

 

Well, earlier than I used to be

back from where I come from.

 

I’m sitting by the window

which filters the outside

have seen the sun go melting

staining the fabric of the sky

and as if on a cue,

the street lamps have come alive.

 

It was a bit noisy before

distant planes roared

cars carried people on-board

random strangers on the street

talking aloud, not knowing what is discreet

and birds, thank God for birds

singing and sighing their way home.

 

But all seem to have gone quiet now

and silence cloaks the world around

only the clock ticks this side of the window

incessant as heartbeat.

 

In a city,

where I don’t know many

and not many

know me.

 

Its hands I’ve set on the time back home,

its voice, sweeter than birdsong.

 

-adee, Monday, 20/04/2015, London.

 

P.S. thanks to dear friend Vainateya for the gift.
It is a really special one.

Comments Disabled

tonight – a ghazal

It doesn’t matter what I think tonight
The paper just won’t catch ink tonight

The clouds all spent, the moon still hides
The wait though long, I won’t blink tonight

The beloved lives near but is a world away
The realization alas, raises a stink tonight

Sit an arm’s length from me, a ‘mehfil’ let’s make
Let our eyes be glasses and clink tonight

The day got tired, is now asleep fast
Night opens the door, with a wink tonight

The heart yearns for what the mind is against
Old foes once again at the brink tonight

A mirage love is, in this desert of heart
‘Adee’ will quench thirst with a drink tonight

-adee, @delhidreams 03/03/2015

Comments Disabled