Gone Tubing...

Finally over the long weekend I was able to get out of the hustle and bustle of normal crazy working life, and accompanied by families of my work colleagues, was able to head out into the tranquility of a river surrounded by hills. It was about a 3 hours drive thanks to the fact that I got pulled over on my way for over speeding and had left my car's rental paperwork in my hotel suite! Thankfully I was able to get out of the pretty little pickle without getting a ticket. Hurray!

The drive over was fairly pleasent made more serene by the wonderful works of Pink Floyd (I can listen to echoes again and again forever...) and the fact that I was not driving. I actually left my car at a McDonalds where I met up with the rest of the troop.

Tubing was something new for me and in hindsight I'd probably have gone rafting, but nevertheless it's a wonderful way to let lose. There's serenity in floating at a snail's pace on a rubber tube, half immersed in water, half burnt by the sun, and just floating down with the slow current between trees and hills on both sides. The sound of soft river rapids right under your ears is a sound to behold and try to put into your permenant pool of recall so you may revert to it when a colleague embarks on a never ending tirade in a never ending meeting.

All in all, this was a perfect getaway following weeks of hectic work. It was just nice to not be able to hear the sound of any cars or computers whirring and messages beeping on your desktop.

You know what, I think we should pick up all the armies (trained and militia) fighting everywhere in the world, put them in tubes and let them float down a river for 4-5 hours. I am sure it would bring things into perspective and they would realize the futility of picking up arms against men and women they've never met before. Better yet, wouldn't it be nice if whenever a nation decides to go to war on another nation they would go tubing instead...

Atleast I won't be repulsed by the news then, for now news has just become a very realistically surreal horror movie.

Today's been a good day, not only have I been able to get a substantial amount of work done, I was also able to try and reinitiate contact with a dear friend I lost track of ages ago. There was a time when my life revolved around the ones I loved, my friends, may family, friends more so then family. And then I got caught up in the professional world. I remember when I started working I lost both my friends and family. There was always a valid excuse to work a little bit more. Slowly I started making more and more time for my family (I guess I need to thank Alina for that as well), and now I am hoping that I'd be able to catch up with all of the friends I lost along the way.

Hey another plan for all the armies around the world fighting on one front or another. Pick them all up, and send them on a mission to rediscover all of their friends and see where they're at, at the moment. Get to know them again, and stay with them until they're as comfortable with them as that old pair of slippers you just won't throw away...

Here's to love and life then!

With God on our Side

It amazes me how Dylan becomes more and more relevant as time passes us by in a spell of violence, deception, grief, and pain...

I just read this poem again and again, and everytime I read it, I just wanted to up and shout, shout at the guy sitting next to me, shout at my building, shout at my city, shout at my country, but above all, and beyond all...shout at humanity.

Silence now...

With God on our Side
By Bob Dylan (1963)

Oh my name it is nothin'
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I's taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.

Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The Indians fell
The cavalries charged
The Indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.

Oh the Spanish-American
War had its day
And the Civil War too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
I's made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side.

Oh the First World War, boys
It closed out its fate
The reason for fighting
I never got straight
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don't count the dead
When God's on your side.

When the Second World War
Came to an end
We forgave the Germans
And we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The Germans now too
Have God on their side.

I've learned to hate Russians
All through my whole life
If another war starts
It's them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side.

But now we got weapons
Of the chemical dust
If fire them we're forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God's on your side.

In a many dark hour
I've been thinkin' about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can't think for you
You'll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side.

So now as I'm leavin'
I'm weary as Hell
The confusion I'm feelin'
Ain't no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And fall to the floor
If God's on our side
He'll stop the next war.

Back in Raleigh

So after a hiatus of about nine months I find myself in the wonderful pre-summers of Raleigh. Got here Wednesday night, rather Thursday morning. And I got back in two stages. First I got back to this city, driving outside the airport was a bit surreal, and staying on the wrong side of the road took a little focus (yes I am in agreement with the British on which the correct side of the road is). The monstrous trees crowding the beltline said a solemn hello in the dark night. They looked friendly in a distant way, a feeling I get more and more from this green city. Even at 1 am on a weeknight the roads were crowded, and it was a struggle of will staying awake and following the GPS lady directing me to my hotel, which by the way is completely smoke free now, so I have to step out of my room every time I feel the need to smoke! I wonder why the voice in the GPS machine is aways that of a girl? I have yet to come across a GPS device with a dude's voice on it...

So in the first step I came back to Raleigh the city. The wind was a very nice cool. It had rained earlier in the night, so the roads still gleamed under the passing cars. All I can say is that you have to experience taking in a deep breath surrounded by trees right after it's rained in the pre-summers here. Quite nourishing for the soul.

The next morning I came back to my workplace in Raleigh. Most of the guys from a year and a half ago were still there, and it was nice to see the year passing on their faces. There were also quite a few new faces to say hello to. The most wonderful thing about this office is that everyone is generally in a nice mood. They all like to chat, laugh, and eat. It was nice coming back to work, and it just took me about an hour to get back on my rusted saddle.

One annoying thing about Raleigh is that mostly the weekdays would be bright, crisp and beautiful, the kind of a day authors write about. But the weekend usually comes with rain and thunder! I wonder what the heavens are trying to say with this?

All said and done, the worst part has been the jet lag. I get up at 4 in the morning everyday and then just lie around, walk around, and smoke around, until it's time to head into the shower and begin my ritual of preparing for work. After lunch, I am just a dead beat, crawling through the last hours of the working day, and then forcing myself to stay awake during my 9 mile drive back to the hotel...

Somehow living out of a suitcase in an insensitive hotel, where everyone smiles at you, as if by programmed logic is getting tougher for me. There was a time I really enjoyed and looked forward to this (mind you I still enjoy my little excusrions), but settling in both mentally and physically gets a little more taxing with every trip I take.

But it's nice just to be able to lay on a sofa, looking at the ceiling, listening to the music Alina would never let me play on a loop. It is tranquil. To be able to choose to move only by necessity is a nice little detour from an otherwise hectic and mad life.

So put out the lights (just leave the dimmest one on), play some Floyd, order some wings and just dwell in your thoughts. Day dream, philosophize, or just think about that Sienfeld episode...life is good. Just miss my family and friends terribly, but then there always is a dark side to the moon, what say Mr Barett, Gilmour, Mason, Waters and Wright?

Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again.

Best opening line in a book ever? Perhaps...

Well yesterday I also dreamed of this old shabby house with high ceiling, thick brick walls painted with "choona", and those old heavy fans that had a five foot pipes separating them from the ceiling. The floors were made of tiny red bricks, and the stairs had wooden planks on their edges to minimize chipping and maximizing life. The roofs were supported by double T girders, and all the wiring was external, with wires running (clamped on thin wooden strips) all over the walls. The electrical switches were those big black monsters that would produce a loud "click" whenever switched on or off. There were rectangular windows at the top of every wall facing outside, which were operated by two strings, one attached at the top (to open) and the other at the bottom (to close).

It was a crisp summer after-noon and most of the adults in the numerous rooms of the mini-"Haveli" were either asleep or relaxing under the monotonous cool of the noisy and shaky fans. Seven children aged six to eleven ran around the house in groups, always chattering, always laughing, always quarreling. They seemed to be at every place at the same time (except inside the rooms, as that was grown-up territory). The little group was lead by a girl with green eyes and pig tails, dressed in a pink, knee length frock. Her knees supported as many bruises as the boys. Plans were being hatched to sneak the sugar out of both the kitchens and taking it to the sugar candy man. He doesn't charge you if you bring your own sugar. The group divided into two, one headed by the girl and the other by a boy just a little younger in age. His hair was all over his face and baked with mud in patches. Always moving it was as if he was eying everyone at the same time with his small, keen snake-eyes. The boy lead his team upstairs, while the girl decided to hit the kitchen on the ground floor (easier escape route). A few minutes and they were both back with big jars of sugar, eyes gleaming and stomachs growling at the mere thought of sugar candy...

I grew up in that house and we moved out about 17 years ago. But never have I explored anything as I explored that house. I knew every loose brick in the floor, every stair that squeaked at night, every hidden passage. I knew that the coolest place in the summer evenings wasn't the single air-conditioned room, but was under the water tank. A miserly space of about 3 feet wide and half a foot high. I knew the best routes within the house for avoiding my angry grandmother. I knew the complicated staircase by heart, and could easily get creative in getting down without using the stairs (for stairs could be blocked by the elders to end the getaway...

Seventeen years on, whenever I dream of a house...it's always this house. I keep changing in my dreams, and so does my life and the context, but the house remains the same. An old squeaky, shaky house that's somehow became the house of my dreams...