Wife in waiting.



She waits, looking all pretty,
Strangers give her odd looks.
She knows that the veil is heavy,
But she knows that so is love.



Me and My Magic Carpet.


I distinctly remember that when I was a child the notion of magic came to me for the very first time while reading the story of Aladdin and the magic lamp. Magic at that stage of life meant “whatever you want, will happen.”

Magic at this stage of life still means, “whatever you want, will happen.” Even now, in my everyday conversations, many a times I refer to my imaginary flying carpet. In many situations I do feel much calmer imagining myself sitting on that carpet and just flying off. Now, thanks to knowing the real life the reference to the magic carpet has an undertone or overtone of sarcasm. But I must say, even now, I believe in magic, even though it won’t ever be obvious, but I so love the glee I feel when I think, that imagine if this could just happen, something which sounds super improbable.

Magic also requires complete suspension of rationality, logic and perhaps science too. But what it does require for sure is a very strong belief. And that belief will lead us to some place. I think. Just imagining that I have a magic carpet and all I have to do is sit on it and transfer myself somewhere else is highly unlikely, but when I do imagine it in my head, it feels real, I actually imagine cool breeze, no pollution of course but a calm traffic smoothly on the road below me. I don’t even care where I land, as long as I can fly on that carpet is all that matters. And it is true to our behaviour in life situations too, the moments we think were magical, they were never leading to anything or anywhere but they were so powerful and complete in those seconds primarily because we believed in the improbable.

Just before my teens, my magic carpet was my bicycle. I used to just cycle around for hours and hours, and the freedom I felt is still palpable. I was discovering freedom for the first time and that feeling that I can get away was awesome, it made me feel like an adult. The feeling of being far way on my own, from where I was supposed to be, but not yet knowing where I will be and the in between was the magic. Only when I came across a point where I felt scared or not safe did I turn the bicycle around and went back the familiar way. Well, sadly there was no magic in turning back.

Now, the magic carpet equivalent is a fight. It literally transports us from one place to another, takes us somewhere, anywhere, but all the planning beforehand makes the destination magical and not the journey somehow. For me, I don’t really care about the destination, as along as I have a magic carpet and all I have to do is sit on it and fly away. I will eventually get to someplace. 🙂

So, I guess magic is nothing but just a strong belief. A belief that something wonderful will happen despite of rationality, logic and science against you. Unfortunately, my damn flying carpet which is supposed to transport me somewhere else is not manifesting itself.

Van Gogh and other pointless thoughts.

Yes, there is a lot going wrong out there and sometimes I feel guilty and shallow for enjoying things. But at the moment all I can do is pray for the sufferers, choose empathy towards friends and strangers and live and enjoy all that life has to offer.
Long ago I remember buying a book, a book which I usually would look down upon as I thought it was shallow and focussed on things that are not important. The book was the best of Vogue pictures of parties, people and places. Once it was bought I thoroughly enjoyed admiring the pictures, I remember telling a friend, “Why must one feel reality is only the struggle, poverty and the suffering? Reality also lies in beauty and perhaps indulgence.”
So, here is my indulgence at the moment, pontificating on my favouritest painting in the world. (I know favouritest is not a word).
It is called “Cafe terrace by night” by Vincent Van Gogh.
I don’t remember when and how I fell in love with that painting, perhaps during art school days. And over the years it is a painting that I love deeply and somehow it just calms me to see it. It is not an unhappy or a happy painting, it is just a sombre snapshot of someone’s neighbourhood cafe, these days we may see something like this on instagram with a hashtag of #myneighbourhoodcafe or something like that.
I have been looking at the painting and realised that my first impression was that of emptiness. The cafe looks like a place busy during the day but the quietness of the night makes you want to get away from it. The patch in the canopy gives it a feeling of well used and well lived a place by people and its owners and it looks nestled in a typical European street with houses around and people coming in and going out. I would like to think, like me Van Gogh was also focusing on the emptiness with vacant tables in the foreground, people and the quiet humdrum of activity at the back is incidental, like when we take a picture, we focus on one thing and many a times when we look at that picture later we realise the stuff that was happening around the subject.
There is so much of quietness in the painting that I feel even the sound of breath itself will bring life to it. When I look at it I don’t even hear the sound of shoes against the cobbled stones in a far away distance. The painting is from a point of view of someone who is distant, smoking a cigarette and with no thought just looking at the on goings of the cafe. Probably if you asked the observer what he saw he may not be able to recall as the painting feels like a moment when you are among a crowd but don’t feel your own body or mind and later on won’t even remember being in that crowd. The painter feels closer to the emptiness and not the people.
And most importantly, because oil painting in the only medium in which you first paint with dark colours and paint light colours at the end, it is similar to a spiritual journey in life. Yes, this is me overthinking it but going from dark to light and to lightness.
So indulgence is a journey, whether of enjoying places, things, people, moments and so on and so forth, but if we let it, it can take us to observing our indulgence and give us a sneak peek in who we are. It is just a matter of how close we are and how far at the same time.

When I am a kid.



When I am a kid I can talk to anything or anyone.

When I grow up I will get the sense of “I”, “Me” & “Mine”

When I am a kid you are a friend and not a swan.

When I grow up you are a bird and I ain’t no Peter Pan.