Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Sounds of Silence

The class broke into a loud guffaw when I gave them the example of a classic postive meaning to be derived from a girl's silence when the boy first proposes to her. The boy could take it as a positive reply where the girl is either too shy to comply, or wants some more time before she comes to a concrete reply. It was a class on 'body language' and I had to tell them all the different kind of perceptions one can derive from silence depending on the situation.
How often I have pondered on the silence of close friends of mine, my anxiety colouring my perceptions, coming to hasty conclusions that suits my temperament! My fervent request here to all my friends who resort to silence as their best maens of communication in times of crisis- please say something to undo the mystery of the silence which can be un nerving for the reciever. More than anything, silence is hurtful. We have read the idiom 'Silence is Golden' and know its value too, but what we fail to understand is silence is intriguing, it lend itself to myriad conjectures based on the recievers perceptions, it could haunt the reciever endlessly, causing much anguish...its so easy to tell my class the different ways in which we can interpret silence, in practice I am a total failure to understand the subtle sounds of silence.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

5.41 CST fast

Watching the net work of the local railway lines from the masjid bridge gives u the feel, yes it really is the life line of Mumbai. The trains look bulged out, as is the people on board the train are hanging on to their dear lives and have in the process managed to pull the ceiling of the train down, there are people hanging from all the doorways and believe it or not, there are people atop the trains, bending their head down every now and then to avoid the overhead electical connections, I was a regular commuter of this so called life line for years, it was like my second home, made some friends there with whom I have bonded better than my colleagues and must admit, am closer with them than my own siblings...we spoke about everything under the sun with no qualms whatsoever, the bonding I think came from lack of professional jealousy...many a times I would shell peas for my friend who had to go home and rush into the kitchen, her inlaws wanted to have food made by her only, not the ones made by the cook...or help another friend to knit the sweater she was making for her neighbours kid...we were like one big family and now when I sometimes make a trip just to be with them since I am not a regular commuter anymore, the welcome I get is to be seen to be believed...
These so called life lines are sometimes also veritable death traps. I have often has the misfortune of seeing badly mutilated dead bodies lying under the overhead bridge on strechers, waiting to be taken to the morgue, the thin cloth that covered them leaving little to the imagination of the onlooker as to the ghastly sight of his wounds...one incident was really tragic, I saw this man hanging at the door way, jumping down everytime the train halted at a station and then running back into the moving train at the nick of time, his luck however ran out, his limp lifeless body got down with me at GTB nagar, 4 men carried him on a strecher to the Sion hospital. his left leg dangling at a queer angle form the shin where it had broken.
My personal experience of near brush with death have been many, but the one that put a chill into me was when I was thrown out of the train along with a group of young college going girls, I was lucky to have had external injuries only, my two other companions were not so lucky, one fell into the track, between the train and the platform, and the other had a serious head injury, both did not survive the fall...
the announcement floated across...5.41, CST fast is soon to arrive on pltform number 7, I moved towards the door of the ladies first class, getting ready to jump into the running train...need to reach home fast, Pablo is waiting for me....do we really learn from our experiences???

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

lost and never found....

It happenend yet again! A quick peek into my orkut profile is the most that I can manage between classes, and today yet again it said, acccess denied. My password had once again been hacked. My son is the one I turn to for tech help, but this time even he was helpless, google had disabled my account for what ever reasons...it was like a death of sorts, ever since I lost my only bro during the mumbai floods in 2005, I tend to associate most losses with death, need to really work on this, kind of getting obsessed with death...not good...All attempts to open the account failed. It was tragic seeing my smiling profile pic through Pablo's account and thats about it, couldnot open the profile atall...The immediate action was to open another account and send friend requests to all my friends to become my friend all over again which they all did most willingly. I even went to the extent of requesting them to send me the testimonials they had written to me earlier, which came back too. One person I lost on my friend list and that is Pratim, a friend I had made on Orkut and lost most abruptly with his sudden death...another reason to intensify my obsession with death. I have spent many vacant moments going over the scraps I exchanged with him , reading and re-reading his profile, his blogspot...I did send him a friend request too knowing fully well he is not around to accept it. Pratim is a major loss on my friend list, I miss him...I miss reading random scraps that tell me how new friendships evolved and matured...how it culminated into good friendship that I will hope lasts and lasts and lasts...I read through the tetimonials sent again...some sound incongruous, out of context, lost in a time frame that belonged to the past...its sad but true, we cant turn the clock again, much as we may want to...

Monday, March 3, 2008

The sea it seems was depressed...

I woke up to a gloomy morning witht the sound of incessant rain. All my plans of a great sunday came to a halt as I opened the window to see the road in fron tof my house flooded. Misty, the neighbourhood cat sat huddled at my window sill soaked to the skin, little droplets of water dripping over her eyes as she tried to look at me. I gave her a saucer full of warm milk which she lapped up in a jiffy, giving a soft pur of satisfaction. Cats are not my favourites, but Misty is an exception.
The sea it seems was depressed...and so this fury of natural calamity. By evening, the rains had stopped, the special quality of Chennai was that the aftermath of rains could never be seen once the sun came out. The roads were almost dry, and to salvage the last bit of a much earned holiday, I walked down towards the seaside which was just a 5 minutes walk from my home. The sea was placid, a cool prussian blue with the white froth appearing like lace trimmings. The seaside wore a thinly populated look, not too many people had ventured out of home after the flooding in the morning. I walked into the water, letting the waves gently lap against my feet...it seemed to be telling me, I am in control, will you be my friend?
Often I get very angry and depressed and unleash my anger on my near and dear ones who I know I can take for granted. The sea too I thinks takes us for granted, and just as no one can delve into my heart and find out the real reason of my sorrow(we have to admit here that most people think selfishly from their own perspective), we too cannot understand what caused the sea to get so depressed.....I really wish I knew so that in some way I reduce its hurt. I imagine it to be the sensitive kind gets hurt easily, but is quick to forgive and extend a friendly gesture...I smiled at the waves and bent down to touch the water with my fingers, smiling indulgently as I did so,,,I see a close resemblance between me and the sea, wouldnot want it to get depressed again...