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...

Persuasion

Recently I had the pleasure reading a book that I had read about a decade ago, "Persuasion" by Jane Austin. In 95, when I read the book as a 17 year old, I remember getting extremely annoyed by the inability of Anna and Capt. Wentworth to say what they feel. The implications of the society created by the author suffocated me as a reader, and I felt that the characters were very unreal and "bookish". There was this constant feeling that if only I were in the character's place, things would have been so different...

What I got from the book this time around was however completely different, it was as if I was reading a completely different book! Perhaps the person reading the book was a different person altogether. This time around I wanted to escape into that very same society of that many years ago, where means of transportation were actual horse powered carriages. Where you'd announce your visit a week in advance, and the notion of being intimate with someone was considered an extreme anomaly. The place where the worst you could do would be to say something improper, or let your guards down at the wrong time. Where limitless effort was spent on maintaining your dignity, and the most important thing was being proper.

I was impressed by how Anna respected her family (who were complete gits, effortlessly placed into the stereotypes we know so well) and let go of what was so close to her heart without ever actively wanting appreciation for the sacrifice. And how she justified the changes that took place in her physical and emotional self as something very acceptable to her being. Her passion to keep Lady Russel happy charmed me. For that meant respecting and loving someone your mother respected and loved over respecting and loving her own desires. I was silently enthused by the way she handled the spoilt brattiness of Mary, and how completely ignorant Mary was to what she really was.

I was bowled over by the penetrating intricacy of Anna's climactic exchange with Capt. Harville...words, reasoning all the while meant for Capt. Wentworth, to finally make him understand, without being macabre enough to say what's in the heart without any feeling of circumstance!

Anna says with a smile "Yes. We certainly do not forget you so soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You are forced on exertion. You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions."

Capt. Wentworth's reply in the form of the letter was as amusing, and the battle within the sexes aptly taken to its inconclusive completion.

"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in
F. W."

"I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never."

I can see how so many people today would be offended by the gender roles professed throughout the book's journey, but times have changed so much, and we should all appreciate this change. A change that has brought the immense good of liberating women from the shackles of unjust rules and given them the opportunity to express themselves honestly. But with this change we also lost all that was beautiful and serene with that time long gone...

My father (on rare occasions) speaks fondly of the evening he spent in the grounds of the Taj Mahal, and he lovingly recalls the time when it was only the smallest of pleasures that were pursued. How differences in age, gender, thought and occasion were always given preference to all else! He is still sometimes surprised when a 13 year old bursts into a barrage of diatribes directed at their parents. My father is the link I have to that time (for I sincerely believe that we in the East lost track of what was near and dear at least a 100 years after the west). A link I somehow want to freeze in my heart, and to somehow always keep alive. Somehow it makes a lot of sense now to fold my feet when an elder is sitting nearby, or to get up whenever a lady enters into the room.

I only wish we could slow down to the pace of our forefathers and appreciate the value of things said in indirect ways always ensuring never to offend.

There is this strong belief within me that were we to revert to the ways we did things in those times, we would definitely sort out a lot of problems today. Maybe the news channels just for once won't have any unnecessary deaths to report in so many corners of the world. They might report how the world leaders took a day off and went to some lake to have tea, and how they just sat and occasionally chatted about the kinds of birds in the area, and how the winds were changing directions...

Stillness; Tranquility & Melancholy

I was going through my old email and got stuck on one sent to me by a good friend speaking of tranquility and melancholy.

It read:

Goya (Spanish artist) believed in the stillness of life and that purity lies in tranquility. Being malancholic is a good sign according to Shakespeare it provides one with the opportunity to learn about themselves.

The belief in the stillness of life... to preach that purity lies in tranquility...I remember saying in reply that tranquility is a hypothetical concept that cannot be achieved. And here I am thinking over it again. Tranquility...to be in a state totally free from stress and emotion.

Escape from the boundaries of stress seems relatively easier, I mean if nothing works, there is always marijuana! Enough of that and you would have forgotten all the stress you ever felt, BTW I am in no way advocating its use, for anything achieved through smoke is eventually just smoke. A temporary blimp that leads you to a greater state of whatever you were trying to escape. Anyway, escaping stress is possible, if only in the moments before you go to sleep or wake up, when you are in a state of half slumber, totally at peace with everything.

But how can we ever escape emotion? There is always some form of it hovering above our existence. From the raw to the most refined, we are always feeling them. Getting elated and then tumbling down to the bottom less depths of remorse and sadness, snarled with guilt. Every breath we take we feel a new emotion, so much so that it feels like emotion is life. The basic essence, the complete picture. Every reaction, no matter how matter of fact is somehow based on some emotion. To serve...to protect...to betray...and to abandon, just ends of the same spectrum. Then how can we ever escape emotion?

Does a person lying in a 25 year coma feel emotion? I don't know, and it would be a little difficult to ask the comatose for the answer. But me, in the here and now, and in the has and been; I have constantly felt emotion. Some variation of this jigsaw puzzle has always been at me, urging me on, tugging me along, and then crippling me and putting me aside, before even a complete blink of the eye. It amazes me how fast the brain reacts, before you can even blink an eye, you know that it's all over. You are completely shattered. The end...and the long wait to the new beginning.

So how would Goya achieve purity, for how could he ever feel absolute tranquility. Once again it's coming back into agreement with Shakespeare. To keep discovering one's own self through the mechanics of melancholy. Delving deeper and deeper into the abyss leading to complete Nirvana. But that comes at a price as well. The price of slowly, steadily becoming a recluse. Achieving absolute removal from the moving and alive...but then, nobody promised that you could buy the cake and eat it too!

There's this little gem of a poem by Mark Strand, "Keeping Things Whole" that would be a good ending to this post...

Keeping Things Whole

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

A conversation I had with myself recently

"So where are you going?"

"In search of the new and the unknown."

" Hah...where is this new and unknown?"

"Hmm...at someplace I haven't been before."

"But why the search for the new and the unknown, why not the comfort of the tried and familiar?"

"Human nature I think."

"But isn't human nature finding comfort in familiarity?"

"Well...if that was true then we would still be stuck in the stone age."

"How can you say that?"

"Well that was the familiar then, but it was the quest for the unknown that took us from there to central air..."

"But if that is human nature, then how do you ever settle down?"

"I never said we ever find peace in settling down?"

"You know, finding that perfect other, falling in love, settling down...the whole shebang..."

"If that were the case, then all the great love stories wouldn't have been tragedies."

"There must be some great love stories with your typical rom-com ending..."

"Yes, but all your rom-coms end where life begin! Name one great love story that went to a complete conclusion with that sort of an ending...better yet, no need to search for a great love story with that kind of an ending, name one person you know who found the perfect other and settled down happily ever after...it's always moving on in search of something new and unkown followed by that!"

"So what does that mean?"

"Nothing I guess...eventually all of us feel the killer need to settle down in the comfort of what we are familiar with, but our instinct says otherwise..."

"In other words...we're fucked aren't we?"

"I guess...but whatever man!"

The first of a kind

I left the States with the notion that I'd be going back in two weeks. A quick trip back home, some family fun, and then back to the work base. However three months down, all I can say is that I cannot help but marvel at the unpredictability of life! A family emergency, some changes in organizational focus, and a Ramadam later, I find myself headed for Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. And the change in destination couldn't have been a bigger contrast. I have spent my last few days applying for visas, and finding out about the kind of Hijaab I would need for Alina. But the good thing is that you can still smoke over there, given that a "shurta" doesn't stop you who might go on offensive yelling "forbidden...forbidden".

But the best thing is that I can go for Umrah, and if luck sides with me, then for Hajj as well...I have my fingers crossed for that, and I have a feeling that God's calling me to His land for exactly this purpose. However there's this whole different agenda of a CRM implementation. But whatever happens, I am sure this would be an experience to remember. With all the contradictory feedback I keep getting, I am not sure if it would be an experience to cherish (about 70% of the ppl I know feel it would be that) or an experience that would make me shiver! My poor colleague who had to spend about 20 hours in jail, still shivers at the mention of it.

But I guess that can be said about any place you visit, given the direction we're taking our world in. I am trying hard these last few posts to keep away from that, for everything just seems like another futile exercise. I guess the key is to live for the completely mundane things. So right now my ambitions reside in watching Babel, buying my first SLR camera (which I keep promising Alina, I won't let her use), and having that perfect cup of coffee. And ever since Naufal went sky diving, I've added that to my list as well.

So once again I am packing all my bags, this time Alina's along with mine, and am getting ready to head off into something that is completely unknown for me. But I guess this is the essence of traveling, going into the true unknown!

Once again I prepare to leave the familiar for the totally new. It would be sad leaving the beloved roads, trees, heck everything of Isloo. But the trick is to think of it in terms of 3 months...3 months and I'll be back here, getting ready with the rest of Isloo to welcome the sweltering summers again.

Camel markets and mud castles, desert sand and crimson skies, here I come...

Optimistic fool!

Sometimes I remind myself of Candide, that foolish optimist created by Voltaire, it's just that I haven't stumbled across lands where gold and diamonds are treated like trash! But right now I am calling myself an optimistic fool because of the state of Pakistani cricket, and the fact that I am still rooting for them in the world cup!

The biggest blow was dealt to me today, with Shoib getting a 2 year ban and Asif walking out with 1 year. But the first ban is very important for me, for that would mean the end of a highly erratic (they don't get any more mercurial then this) career and one of my favaourite cricketing personalities.

Here are a couple of articles about the flawed genius I liked. Why do they feel like obituaries?

The wings, they have been clipped

A tale of intrigue, injuries and incidents

Not only has Shoib's removal dented Pakistan's chances with the world cup, it has indeed lost cricket the biggest showman it had...but still I feel there is hope for this injured side, for it is in adversary that they sail the smoothest!

Yesterday as I sat in the comfort of my home, I too felt like a smooth sailing ship. What was that ship Prince Caspian sailed in the Narnia books? Anyone? Just like that wonderful little ship, facing all sorts of adversity but still amounting to one heck of a journey. It's wonderful how this trance like feeling can just come over you for no reason at all. And then you float away in it, like in a Pink Floyd song specially if you've had some quality weed.

Right now, I am sitting at work, and am trying to recreate that loving feeling, but even though I know how it was, I really can't visualize it in my brain to recreate it. But therein lies the charm of such feelings. Their unexpected arrivals, triggered by the un-named mysteries of this world. Once you feel it, you feel like living forever and ever, just in the hope that it might come again. Like falling in love and how sweet, warm and fuzzy it felt, and then hanging on to that love in the hope to encounter that loving feeling all over again!

Next time then...

I hate being irregular!

This might come as a surprise because I have been very irregular in my favourtie pass time for the last 2-3 months! Somehow blogging hasn't come easy, and the excuse is the same, not able to blog when I want to, and then when I can, I don't want to...

But here I am now, and let's live in the here and now. The way things are going in the world, I believe in this age old wisdom more and more. Just day before 86 people, mostly children, were blown up to find one terrorist. Somehow life is a price we are always willing to pay. I wonder what we can do to increase the worth of life, for there was a time when I thought that the notion of having an ice cream in the freezing December nights of Isloo was enough to realize the it's worth. Foolish me!

So Eid came and went, and this time I couldn't indulge myself in my ritual Eid post. But it was fun, filled with family (and I mean lots of family, say 38 ppl in my little home) and a whole lot more of utter chaos. Just the way I like my Eids! Having the misfortune to spend an Eid here and there on my own in some lone corner of the world, I have really begun to appreciate all that my family offers me. Usually I am baffled by the feminine need to spend endlessly on clothes and shoes, but the dress Alina got made for Eid made me think otherwise...it was worth it! BTW am still baffled about the shoes!

And just last night I got back from a whirlwind tour of Lahore (usual excuse...cousin's wedding). In 24 hours, I managed to attend a wedding, hang out with all the cousins I was missing, treat the missus to what the Lahori's call "bun paluster" (it's an egg and chicken burger made in butter, lots and lots of butter, and you have to try it, for I cannot explain it), worked over my cell phone, tried the famous Jhelum fish (caught an hour before consumption, trust me that's the only way to eat fish), enjoy countless Kishore songs that I grew up loving, pick small cute fights with Alina, and for a change manage regular prayers in between! Even though my head is still spinning from the whirl wind tour, it seems worth all the whiles. I'll admit that it's been sometime since I have been totally at peace with myself and my surroundings, and during the last 24 hours, I was just that. It seems I need to be on the road and travel around a 1000 kms withing 24 hours to do that.

Oh yes, and my travel bug is alive again, now it's off to Saudi Arabia. Good thing is that Alina will by my side this time around, and I have heard wonderful things about the fried chicken they have there! The only problem I foresee is that the application I will be working on and all the data is going to be in Arabic, and I can't speak a word of it, but that should be fun, at least it should make up some interesting posts.

Naufal sent me his sky diving pics, and all I can say is wow! Even since I have received the pics, I have been trying to figure how he felt before, during and after the jump! I guess freedom unlimited. Even though you're still in a trance of gravity, you are free to look upon the world like the heavens.

All my friends seem to have settled into nice rhythms. Babar is settled back in Isloo and on a land buying spree, Aijaz is running around as always, all the time catching up with life (we had another discussion in the long list of discussion to make some sort of a movie), Zeeshan is on the edge with the new business absorbing all the stress like a black hole, Ali's good and "nikahofied", MA is his usual self, and it's been raining Naufal in Syracuse!

And there's something big brewing in the background, which I'll bring into the blog world when it's confirmed.

So here's to hoping that I can bring some consistency into my wonderful world as well, and start blogging regularly...

Have fun...and live in the here and now

The reason we love Isloo...

Day before yesterday, as I was lying around at around 4 pm to steal some shut eye, to pass the final hours of a fast that refused to end, I head a sound that in Isloo means perfection. The sound of thunder capped with the wheeze of a strong strong breeze. And by the time I got up (after 15-20 mins) everything outside was new. There was a sudden chill in the wind, the sky was a violent shade of crimson, with glistening clouds scattered in the sky, reflecting the pure light from the sun. Everything alive and green had miraculously found its one true color, and there were countless shades of green on display. And above all, stepping outside was accompanied by an urge to walk outside! All in all, the perfect Isloo day!

The perfect Isloo day is the one day that convinces you to spend the rest of your life in this city of wonder. That one day which is enough to counter any argument thrown by any lover of Lahore or Karachi, or heck anywhere in the world. But somehow there's more to it. I spent about 6 months in Raleigh, a city a lot like my Isloo, with the same sort of temperamental weather, and long stretches of lush greens. And I never once felt truly at home. Yes I did agree on more occasions then one, that if I were to move, I could move here! But the moment I set foot in Isloo (about 2 months to the date) after a 12 hour delay, I was at peace. I somehow knew that everything would be just fine. Whoever said "familiarity breeds contempt" should think again, because familiarity, in my case, has bred a love of epic proportions.

That night, quite late, I went to the roof of my house. By the time the breeze had gotten stronger, and the smell of jasmine (planted lovingly in our backyard by my father) was mixed in the wind, where every few seconds, you just felt like breathing in forever, for everyone who knows, knows that nothing compares to the smell of a jasmine plant at night.

But as I was saying, it was nice to have that perfect Isloo day again, and even nicer that I was here to see and feel it for myself. For even though hearing about the perfect Isloo day, and creating it in the mind, is no doubt a great activity, but it can never ever beat the feeling of actually being there.

So here's to being here then...

Breaking tradition

So for the first time in my short blogging life, I am about to copy a forwarded email to me on my blog. See normally I am the guy you hear bitching about all the useless forwards we get everyday. I am the guy who is known to have called the person up on more then one occasion who sent me a forwarded email to give my (little) piece of mind.

But here I am copying a forwarded email. I asked the person who sent me the forward to give me the name of the person who wrote this (and permission) to put this in my zoo. Unfortunately the person who sent me this did not know who wrote this, it was just a nameless forward, heck even I might have written this some sleepless night! But if you've written this, then please let me know, for I would definately want to read your blog!

Anyway enough by me...here goes.

Close your eyes.....
And go back in time....
Before Internet, VCD and DVD.
Before semi-automatic machine guns, joyriders and crack ....
Before SEGA or Super Nintendo or Video Games...

Way back....

I'm talking about Hide and seek (Chhupan Chhupaee) or Barf Panee or Dodge the Ball in the park or on streets.
The corner shop, Butter Scotch Candy, Mitchells Milk Toffee, Jubilee, football with an old can, jumping in enormous puddles, Building dams
The smell of the sun and fresh cut grass, Mayfair bubble gum, A POLKA ice cream pop cone on a warm summer night,

Wait......Watching Weekday 5pm evening or Saturday Morning cartoons... short commercials, The Tom and Jerry, He-Man, Captain Caveman, Voltron,
Walligator, Danger Mouse and Pink Panther.

Staying up late for Knight Rider, Air Wolf or Power of Metthew Star, Watching nice Urdu Plays like Un Kahi, Tanhaiyaan, Sunehray Din, Aangan Tera.

When around the corner seemed far away, and going into down town or Liberty Market seemed like going somewhere.

A million mosquito bites, wasp and bee stings.
Sticky fingers.
Walking to school, no matter what the weather.
Running till you were out of breath.
Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt!
Jumping on the bed.
Pillow fights.
Climbing trees, building igloo Ice Lollies out of tiny amounts of snow.
Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.

Being tired from playing...
Remember that?

The biggest embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
Water balloons were the ultimate weapon.

I'm not finished just yet...
Eating raw jelly, orange squash, ice popps.

Remember when...
You knew everyone in your street - and so did your parents!
It wasn't odd to have two or three "best" friends.
You didn't sleep a wink on EiD Chaand Raat…
When 100 Rs. was decent pocket money.

When you'd get a coke for 4 Rs.
When nearly everyone's mum was at home when the kids got there from School.

It was magic when dad would "remove" his thumb.
When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
When being sent to the head's office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home.

Basically, we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn't because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Our parents and grandparents were a much bigger threat!
And some of us are still afraid of them!!!

Didn't that feel good?
Just to go back and say, Yeah, I remember that!

Remember when....
Decisions were made by going "eeny- meeny-miney-mo."

"Race issue" meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in "Monopoly".

The worst thing you could catch from other person was germs, and the worst thing in your day was having to sit next to opposite sex.

Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a catapult.
Nobody was prettier than your Mum.
Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.

Taking drugs meant orange-flavoured chewable aspirin.
Ice cream was considered a basic food group.

Getting a foot of snow was a dream come true.

Abilities were discovered because of a "double-dare".
Older siblings were the worst tormentors, but also the fiercest protectors.

If you can remember most of these, then you have LIVED!

Welcome me back!

Let's just say that I am glad that my time off is finally over, and Thank God that it's ended in a happy ending, leading to many new beginnings. And I guess I can only blog when I am coming into work on a regular basis, because when I'm off work, the only time I turn my machine on is when I want to watch a movie or listen to some music.

This past month I have been feeling the rippling effect of life at its best and heavens at their ironic most. Where one thing leads to many other things, and they in turn do the same, and suddenly your circumfrence is filled with ripples, and you're just running around catching one thing by it tail, and colliding head on with another. And when finally it's over and things slow down, all you can do is to just collapse for a day or two hiding behind an attack of allergies, and just hope that if you sneeze and sniff enough, maybe, just maybe everyone would leave you alone!

But now it's all better since I have started coming into work again, and life suddenly makes more sense, I guess it's the comfort of familiarity that I am enjoying right now.

Good thing is that I still don't have a deadline to pack my bags and go, so enjoying Isloo from the comfort of routined life is quite fantastic. I would however appreciate if the climate changed for the cooler, because now the heat is getting on my nerves! But I guess the way we're molesting our environment, we should get used to much worse. What was the Al Gore documentary? It shold be compulsory viewing for all.

But on a much much better note, finally the Israeli offensive on Lebonan has been halted and the senseless killing ended, at least for the time being. Come to think of it we live in mother earth, and earth being life's mother, it isn't surprising that mother earth is contemplating assisted suicide (assisted by our cars and industry of course). For show me a mother who can stand so many murders of her children and I'll show you a person who has never lied.

But the trees are still green and the wind still soothing...and as long as we have that I guess we'd eventually be alright, for I guess our lives are lived in small moments of peace and utter joy.

See you soon...

And the smile gets bigger

Nothing like a trip back home to get your mood out of the gutter! I am flying back on the 2nd and everyday some more energy fills the deepest crevices of my shallow existence. Everyday I plan a little more of the things I want to do when I get home. I chalk out in my mind the places I want to visit with my family. Or where and when I want to just hang out with friends. And all the food I'll savor.

It's the little satisfactions that you find at home that light up everything. That make it all worth the while, and I have always craved and searched for these small satisfactions. Like that perfect piece of cheese cake.

Our ability to associate and then dissociate from things around us astounds me. Traveling back home is traveling to the comfort of all the loving associations you grew up with, and that's very easy to do. Even someone who hated his/her home and moved out before you could say eighteen can adjust back home easily. But we're equally good at dissociating ourselves from our homes when the need arises to pack up the bags and move on to a new frontier, always with the hope of coming back home. I think it's this hope of coming back home that gives a soldier the strength to pursue something totally senseless at the war front.

I leave my home assisted by this energy to pursue something a little less senseless, the pursuit of job satisfaction. See for me a job cannot be just something to make ends meet. It has to be more. Believe me I've tried that work to live approach, but I can't work it. I always lose interest and all willingness to work myself towards anything, and eventually it's not the job that suffers (for if there is a deadline, then it would be met), but my personal life that goes down the drain! So it's this juggling act that needs to be conducted while balancing yourself on a thin rope, crossing the Niagara falls.

But my home calls out to me everyday now, and every night I dream of it. The cool breeze on our rooftop, the comfort of my real bed, the kindness in the eyes of my family, and that comfortable feeling of hanging out with friends who've grown around you, and have seen you grow all the way.

Ever wonder why movies about coming home are always more soothing then the movies about leaving home. Because no matter what happens, unless you live in Jack the Ripper's street, that journey back is always going too be good, sweet, and nurturing.

So depressed by this world (there are still people dying everyday in the middle east, and no one seems to care), and bit by a goose (yes, true story, no one else got bit by a goose at Duke Gardens but me this Sunday), I am actually looking forward to something. Looking forward to the warm embrace of my home...

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

The misery of our times...

It's been days now since India was hit by the train blasts accounting for the end of 200 dreams and all the dreams associated with those 200 dreams. And Lebonan keeps on being hit by bombs, killing civilians going about their lives everyday...

I haven't been normal for many days now, but then I haven't been normal for quite some time now. I spoke to Girish about the attacks the night it happened, and all he had to say was don't think about it, there's nothing we can do. And come to think of it he was absolutely 100% correct, what can we do, or rather what can anyone anywhere do, but move on.

But how can one mould himself to not think about this blatant disregard for life, which if anything increases by the day. In all probability it can only get worse from here and we're running out of people like Mother Teressa, and are breeding maniacs in the line of Hitler.

I hate to say this, but very soon we'd have a date for every month to feel bad about, 9/11, 5/7, 7/11 and so on and so forth. And I am not even talking about all the wars that are being waged which practically are just different forms of genocide!

There is this constant feeling of suffocation with me, and I can't seem to break out of a sort of ttrance that's come over me. My work is suffering, and life seems to be dwelling in a gutter. I feel as phased out of everything as that angel from "Wings of Desire" longing to touch and feel, but unable to do so. However in my case it isn't the inability to touch and feel, but the fear of what you'd actually touch, and how you would eventually feel. At times like this being in a comma like daze is a blessing. But there's always a longing to touch and to feel.

There's no more escape in the movies, books feel artificial, and air is just a fabrication, and don't even get me started on TV! Maybe I'll start running again, yes I should definately do that, run off into a new and unknown direction, leaving all the towns and cities behind me, where all I hear is the sound of my feet falling on all kinds of ground, and all I feel is my lungs working over time to make up for all the cigarettes.

To reach that state where the mind becomes devoid of all thought, and just works to create more resolve...

The afterlife and eventual resting place

So after receiving an email from a friend asking me what I thought of the afterlife I started thinking about it all over again. I hail from a religious family, who practice their religion quietly and with minimum disturbance. So growing up I was instilled with strong notions of faith, and as I grew up more they were slowly morphed into a rigid set of beliefs.

Very important among them was to have faith in afterlife, and I think most of my life I liked that particular belief. In more ways then one, it gave purpose to this life, but as I grew up even more, I realized that it also laid life out as a program (not TV, but say C++) and defined it in terms of things to do and not to do. Again I have no qualms about that as most of the “to do’s” agree with the generic sense of morality that I now feel prevails on our tiny planet.

But somehow we have found ourselves in a time where the promise of a good afterlife makes you walk into places and do extremely stupid things, in the name of a goal far greater then life itself. Now that is where I draw the line. Not in a million years can I even begin to feel that, that is a path worth pursuing.

I don’t know what my exact thoughts on afterlife are, but I can at least say what I want. I would want my soul to fizzle away the moment I stop breathing. I would want it to evaporate into thin air and not become part of any cycle. Remember all the cycles we’re drilled with in class. The oxygen cycle, the water cycle, and so on and so forth. And then there’s the circle of life from Lion King (even though even that was more of a cycle)…so no part in any form of a cycle for me, just the quick and peaceful fizzle.

And I am not among those who long for the long infinite, I like the fact the I have a finite existence, just seems more manageable. Would I really want to go on forever in utopia? No I won't! Neither would I want to go on forever in the bonfire of the vanities!

I do however like the notion of being buried. But I would prefer to be buried in a wild rain forest where I can become part of the trees and the weed. No cemeteries for me please, with the well trimmed grass and neatly laid out walk ways within. It just feels so much better to become part of something dictated only by the laws of nature (rain forest) and free from the limiting limitations of mankind! And besides no one would visit to pay respects, and that would be great.

I don’t want the people who have seen me alive and laughing and breathing to be looking at a tombstone and a hump of mud and trying to relate to that in terms of me. So let me just say now, that is not me. The “me” was what you knew, loved or hated, or were indifferent to, but that tombstone and hump of mud…definitely not!

Serenity now!

So a wonderful little vacation over, and finally back into my working groove...

One would think that I'd be thinking of all the wonderful places I visited, and reliving them in my mind. I guess that'd be what a normal person (per say) would do after a vacation. Think of that wonderful tree in the middle of a park, recreate the peace of mind found in that exquisite chapel! But here I am, thinking about this person I ran into on one of the many local train rides.

Let me tell you about this person first, and then I'll get into why I keep thinking about him. So we boarded a train in Boston to head to Harvard Square, and this person comes in and sits close to where I am sitting. In his late forties, he pulls out a Disk-man (is that the correct word? Or is it CD-man? Doesn't really matter though does it!) and a brand new 50 Cent CD with it, still in its plastic wrapper. He tries to rip the plastic cover and fails, and then asks our friend from Boston if she has sharp nails. At that moment Naufal intervenes and takes the CD to help open it. Finally Naufal and I double team to rip the plastic cover by use of our car keys. And the open CD is returned to the person. Now this person puts on these hi-fi headphones (I think they were Sony), which are supposed to drown out all wordly noises and leave you with the "noise" (sorry no other word in my vocabulary to describe 50 Cent) of the album.

He listens to this album for about 15 seconds, takes off his headphones (irritated), and goes on about why one should never buy expensive headphones. Now I understand that not only did he buy a new CD, he also bought the equipment to listen to this CD on the move. So we are looking at a considerable dig into the pockets. Now with every passing moment this person is addressing us in a louder and louder tone, and the surprising thing is that he gets louder in high-spirits, as if he's chasing his overjoyed puppy around the park! It's as if he's had a few too many happy pills. Anyone who commutes frequently would understand that this particualar situation can get quite uncomfortable, you know when someone barges into your space and takes over like he's known you for ages and you're the best of chums!

So we do the only polite thing, and start talking to each other in Urdu, and block out everything outside. See you don't always need 50 dollar headphones and a 50 Cent CD to do that. And our ploy works. Now this person focuses his energy on a kid sitting across from us, who unfortunately rips the corner of a meaningless advert on the train and starts rolling it into a ball (an action not at all in the good graces of our person). And this person takes on the kid quite agressively. Again in a lively and a "game show host" kind of a way. A minute later he has the kid showing him what he's carrying in this carton he's carrying. And the poor kid is taking out things from a professionally packed box to utilize minimum space with maximum items. The saddest thing is that the kid is doing this to convince this person that he doesn't have anything in the box that would blow up! And you know that once he takes stuff out of the box, he won't be able to pack it in again.

At the next stop the kid gets off, and now I am wondering if this was his actual stop, or did he just get off the train for te sake of getting off! And before we can onbserve any further antics of this person, we also get off at the next station.

Now one would say, why do I keep thinking about this person. I don't keep thinking about this gentleman for the things he did and said, even though they weren't all to gentle, but it was just the way he did all these things. In a bright as sunshine sort of a way. As if he'd just come out of the Munchkin land of Oz. Or rather he's in some sitcom where even the saddest of moments are dealt with (in)appropriate punch lines.

I keep thinking about him and wondering what needs to happen to you to bring you to that stage in life. Where you're close to hitting the big five O, and are struggling to become beer buddies with the people on a train in a city where everyone is in a hurry to get off the train and head to their own little egg shells.

I think of this as a big tragedy, and a future that might be in store for any one of the people I know, including myself. I tried to ask my friends if you were asked to write a story about this person, that would end with this person sitting in this train, trying to rip open a 50 Cent CD and ripping a kid apart just because he could, what would your story be like? Would it reach this stage with a Scrooge like indifference, with the three ghosts of christmas past, present and future about to make their visits? Or would it be a tragedy of epic proportions, where a person dissolves into oblivion by the incessant cruelties of our just society? A society which is moulded to honour never standing out (remember the Perfect Citizen by WH Auden)!

And I can't stop thinking about this person. I keep making up these different stories in my mind that all end with this person sitting in this train, doing these particular things, and the camera fading away into a night, shifting from a close to long shot of the train, going off into the night...

And with every story comes a completely new set of causes and effects and their very own retributions. But I guess the biggest fear at the back of my mind is that, am I headed in this same direction? With my baggage of failed relationships and failing relationships, would I be sitting in that train, doing these strange and encroaching things, as the camera fades away into the night! How am I to make sure that the choices I make today, don't take me closer too that tomorrow.

I guess I just want the Frank Capra ending over the ending of say "The Black Narcissus"...

As Cosmo Kramer would say ... "Serenity NOW...Serenity NOW...Serenity NOW" ... I would be willing to pay a considerable price to just be thinking about the falls and the food right now, but I guess you are what you are...

Next time then!

Four cities; Four days - And Go!

And finally I am back, after a small vacation, which I consider was long due for me! So here I am sitting in front of my computer, with soar legs and a stiff back. My head is still a little dazed, and I guess some part of my brain is still at work trying to digest all that happened since Saturday...

So I started out at 3 am on Saturday, with a hot shower and a close shave. Thankfully the cab arrived on time and I checked into the airport terminal on time, for a flight, which was also on time! Everything was so on time, that I nearly missed my flight when I decided to have a little breakfast before boarding the plane. So eventually I had to run out of the terminal, waving my hands furiously, to stop the air hostess from closing the airplane doors. But eventually I made the flight, and when I landed in Rochester, good ol' Naufal was waiting for me at the airport! Again on time!

(This is like describing someone else's trip, as my trips never go on time)

So we drove from Rochester to Niagara, and were at the falls by 3 pm. I guess the gods were in a good mood as the day was bright and sunny (even though the forecast said rain). The Maid of the Mist and Cave of the Winds were great. I guess the ferociousness of the falls can make a believer out of anyone! There were moments of absolute Nirvana on the tracks that flirt with the falls taking you closer and closer (but never any cigar), where the soul is lifted beyond the grip of the worldly realm. I guess a picture of Naufal that would always stay in my mind would be him on his knees, sitting under the spray of the falls (Hurricane point on the Cave of the Winds), for a moment just disconnected from everything, floating away without a care in the world...

The falls seemed very different from what I remembered. I really don't think they could have changed the falls that much, so it must be the difference in the pictures a boy retained in his mind in the year 1989, and the pictures the pudgy bald guy stored in his head come 2006!

Another interesting person I came across there was this spray-paint artist, he had a disability in one hand, and was working with his son. Using stencils, blades, and hands, he would make quick pictures of the falls, interpretted in different lights, and I guess even on different planets...I bought one of his pictures for Alina, let's see what her artist bearings say about the hurried work of art!

So completely drenched, a little cold, and totally exhausted, we left for Syracuse. I remember that by the time we got there, it was an extreme effort to head into Naufal's dorm of sorts. I say dorm of sorts because it isn't a dorm, just a little house, practically on the SU campus, packed with "gaanjed up" (I think that's the latest expression) students, going through education at its best!

So after barely 2 hours of sleep we left for Boston. This time the drive was much longer, and in bigger patches of inactivity, where you just get on a highway and struggle to stay awake!

Now Boston was a surprise for me. It's like one of those towns you find in fairytales, with uneven roads, and little homes popping up here and there. At least that's what I got from the place where our hotel was. It was like we suddenly drove into those little spots they talk about in Europe, where life is preserved against time...

This is when we met up with our guiding angel in Boston. Now our angel didn't really know the exact routes and roads but she always had an idea of where we were headed. See she hasn't been in Boston for long, and I guess when you're doing your masters in some form of multi-media, you don't get much strolling time! And if ever there was a strolling town, it's Boston.

So led by our angel we took a self guided tour of the Freedom Trail, walked though a serene park, ate in the hustle and bustle of Quincy Market, walked on the harbour where you can taste the water in the breeze, and had a nice little meal sitting out in the open in some nook of Harvard Square where this guy played songs out of the 60s and 70s on his guitar. O and we also visited a lot of churches, with amazing windows laden with Gothic art. To sum it all up, I think I fell in love with Boston, and all it took was a day.

What's so great about the town, well hundreds of small restaurants that aren't part of any big chain, history going back to the time it all began in this part of the world, uneven roads with unplanned construction, glistening harbour, and a small city breathing life in general!

Very reluctantly we left Boston the next day for Syracuse. At least this time we were able to sleep for at least 5 hours. The drive back to Syracuse was followed by a quick university tour provided by Naufal, whose every third sentence was "I don't know what that is". I guess Syracuse is the kind of a campus that grows on you after a while, but I wasn't there long enough for it to have had any real effect on me.

So this short tour was followed by a long bus ride to NY City, which as expected was packed with people from all over. Times Square was the same as I remembered, even got the exact same feeling I used to get there, and Gray's Papaya hot dogs were still the best in the world. The trip to the Guggenheim was very refreshing. Even though Zaha Hadid's architectural scketches didn't make much sense to me, paintings by Kandinsky, Pollack and Van Gough were as entralling as ever. This was the first time I saw the works of Kandinsky, and his "Landscape near Murnau with Locomotive" is for me one of those painting that can draw you in, and then not let you go. It's like the landscape explodes out of the canvas.

The trip was eventually concluded by our missing the bus, and in turn my missing the floght back to Raleigh! And of course we only missed the bus by just 5 minutes, so the missing of the bus was preceeded by mad dashes into and out of subways, running madly on the roads, bumping into everyone, requesting people to let you through, and so on and so forth...

So here I am eventually, after an 11 hour bus ride, still a bit dazed, but more relaxed then I've been in a while...all in all, a great holiday comes to an end!

Next time then...

It's finally time!!!

The fact that I was born in 1978 and Richard Donner brought Superman to life on screen that very same year must mean something. It was six years later that my uncle brought home a video for us kids to watch, and the title just had a triangle on it, with a big "S" inscripted inside it. I am amused when I think of the VCR we had back then. It would auto-eject the video every 20 minutes, and it was one of those pop out players, with a remote control with a wire! And the small screen of the TV, always flickering and whobbling (bad picture tube they said).

But the next two and a half hours or so were and would always be beyond words for me. Let's just say they were followed by years of jumping off of my parents cupboards onto the bed yelling "Supperrmannnnnn", and always landing with a thud, never taking off.

My love for Superman only grew when I saw Superman II, but somehow it lacked the wonder of the original. As I would grow older, I'd realize that II was just the hacking together of Donner's vision by a completely short-sighted studio puppy. But never the less, Superman I & II helped me get to that wonderful place in childhood, where all unreasonable dreams can come true the very next day. I don't really remember when I realied that I might not be able to fly like my buddy Kal-el in this life time at least. But yes, some of the wonder of Superman was lost on me when I eventually saw the movies they called Superman III & IV. After I had seen III, I was of the opinion that they couldn't possibly do any worse. And then I saw the Quest for Peace, and a very important human trait dawned on me. Human-beings can always do worse! There's great wisdom in realizing this little snippet. However I do own both III & IV on DVD, I mean if Reeves, Kidder, and Hackmen agreed to work on them, then who am I to complain!

The timing of my entry into this world should have made me a Batman fanatic, and Burton perhaps single-handedly created a complete and unique universe. I really liked Batman, but my barometer for super heroes was already set, and even though Keaton and Basinger were good, they were never Reeves and Kidder. And Nicholson could never bring to Joker what Hackmen brought to Luthor! So even though I liked Batman, I still dreamed of myself as being Kal-el, just waiting to find out that I am a visitor from another planet. Heck I was so motivated that I still have excellent reflexes. I am the best person to have around if you drop something and hope that it's caught before it's shattered...

Such was the love for Superman that I actually started reading. I read every Superman comic I could find, until I was seduced by the world of X-Men and Spidey. Over the years I progressed from the world of comics to the worlds created by Dostoevsky and Dickens. I would stop reading comics eventually, and be excited only by a book that would call out to me from a shelf, but that comic lover would always live on. I realized that every time I drift to the comic book isles in airport book shops, and every once in a blue moon, even pick one out!

And then, in this grown-up mould, I read the news that they're making Superman again. No I heard this exact news more then once, but this time, what excited me was the associtation of this person called Singer with the project. And then more and more things happened that got me more and more excited and jittery, like a drunk waiting for his glass to be filled again. I found out that the musical score would be brought forward, and the new music would base itself on the original's roots. I found out that the movie would pick up after II and we would all try to forget III & IV ever happened. I found out that Spacey is the new Luthor, and Luthor would finally be bald through most of the film and not wearing wigs. All these facts were exciting for me, slowly building my frenzy to boiling point, counting down hours to the showing of Superman!

But rest assured, I have my doubts! Even though I am overjoyed by how much Routh looks like Reeves, there's always a voice at the back of my mind when I watch the trailer..."too young...".

But my biggest doubt is the Kidder replacement in the form of Bosworth. Even though on her worst day she can't possibly ravish the character like the Smallville series did, but can she be that cynical, chain-smoking and all the while mesmerizing woman from the real days of Superman? And believe me, no Superman can work without a Lois Lane that rocks the show.

But tomorrow night, I'll make my way to the theater for the first showing of Superman Returns, breaking my rule to not go out for too long on a working night. I'll get there half an hour early to get that seat in the middle row and middle column, and would excitedly wait for the magic to begin. During the wait I'll keep picturing Superman catching Lois and the helicopter, and saying to her don't worry, I've got you, and Lois firing back, "you've got me, but who's got you!"

See I won't walk into the theater to be convinced that a man could fly, Donner already did that for me, but I would walk into the theater to feel a love in the lines of the love I found 22 years ago, in front of a whobbly television with a flickering screen, and a manually tuned VCR which would pop-up videos after every 20 minutes or so. The little screen would be replaced by a giant curtain, and mono sound would be replaced by Dolby Surround. And the effect of the movie won't be shattered every twenty minutes.

But the person sitting in front of the screen would be much more cynical and bitter then the kid who would jump to pop the video into the VCR every time it popped out, all the time shaking with excitement...

My mind wanders...

...as another week whizzed past me. It was the same amalgam of work, rest, restlessness, and brief encounters with insanity. And I am looking at another weekend, about two and a half days of really nothing to do. Away from home, and living out of your suitcase in a hotel, you learn to live with that quite efficiently. A rhythm is found, and is slowly practiced into routine, and eventually a life-style.

I have dedicated a few posts to how I am sick of the routine, and a scheduled procession of affairs that repeat themselves like night after day. But if I really do hate that, how do I keep finding myself in a procession of repeatable, mundane acts that formulate my days and nights, and eventually my life. If I really look for excitement, and the satisfaction of not knowing what the next moment may bring, why don't I, as Nike says, Just do it!

But then how does the adventurer feel about his life? Does he not feel that the constant of excitement in his life has become a routine thing...

I think we as a species relish in routines and our dissatisfaction. And combine these two qualities and you have the 21st century man. Always bickering and blaming everyone from God to the roach infestation in the kitchen cabinet.

I have always found myself at places around the globe, where I wouldn't generally expect to find myself. I've lived in a foot of snow, scorching deserts, the comfort of small towns, and the madness of metropolitan centers. Yet, in all these varied places, I have discovered routines and followed them, like a zombie at times. These routines have varied from place to place, as if out of the lives of completely different and un-related people. Some commonalities throughout though, like a good book, and fairly recently, this blog. From what I've seen, I guess the place you inhabit defines you as a person, you live by the unspoken rules that govern that particular pie of the world. You discover things you like doing under those rules, and find the things you have to do to get by, that you eventually become indifferent to.

For instance would I be thinking these very thought at this very moment, if I were on the opposite end of this globe? But that's an unfair question, whose answer is always limited by circumstance.

The purpose of this diatribe is not to reach any conclusion or even a satisfactory moment, but just to document how I feel right now. At this very moment. But even this moment is governed by where I am in life, philosophically, theologically and most importantly (based on what I see it right now) geographically.

In all our efforts to break free throughout our history, we have always found ways to bind ourselves to principles and rules that dictate our existence. Be it the creation of a religion, or Nietzsche and his existentialism, or the geographic divisions we put up, these have all been in so many ways, ways to formulate rules to command our lives.

I guess it all boils down to relativity. Be it that you lead your life by principle, or lead it by breaking all principles...you are in effect just obeying principles, just principles of different natures...

Have a nice weekend!