A Clamoring Dream

“Come Fly with us, make the most of the open lock. Fly again!” The clamor broke out again; all with big and expectant eyes on me.

 I, with my recently shampooed cyan coat shinning and the strong crimson beak even more crimson in the morning rays, was perched well on the much-like-a-wooden-log stand, brooding over the options given to me to decide within a few seconds before the lock is done again. A golden steeled cage let loose from the ceiling, in his bedroom’s balcony, was my abode; my latest abode. One side was the open sky beyond the rods of the cage and the rods of the balcony grills and on the other side was the vastness of his room.

Stop brooding over, just Fly Away!

Today, all the senior members and the most learned of all that perched on the rod of the grills of the balcony had come to advise me. I was looking for my friends, the ones who would visit me every day and picked up an unsaid relationship; the ones more like me, but free. Today, the assembly had come on the grills of balcony, with everyone finding it difficult to balance on the sleek rods shaped in various forms to make the grill look more artistic. All the assembly squawked on me to let go the cage and embrace the nature; get into the wild.

I could hear the heart’s thudding and feel the pressure shooting up. For me, how could I leave all this, I have been with him for more than half of my life, he has made my childhood beautiful, he seldom locks me up. I’ve a comfortable life here, I’ve a swing, a pond for myself, the whole cage, variety of food, then what else would anyone want more? But the stories of my friends from across the grills of the balcony, the vast flying experiences, the kiss of the breeze, the flight in the rain, the chase, getting chased, falling in love, raising a family, singing the tree songs, the family-flying dance, the color of the seasons, all these seem like a beautiful dream to me. Meanwhile, the heart pounding so heavily as if to bludgeon someone to death. I had a narrow window of time to sneak out before he wakes up and loves me again for me to forget the world and sing for him and only him.

On a whim, I couched and got out; and suddenly, the clamor rose and turned into a big applaud. We took flights. I followed!

Felt the air above and below the wings, the use of wings. The heaving in air with the breeze until a smile broke my frown. I loved it!

“No, Stop!” I woke up with one hand in the space, in an upright position to stop my parrot, my beloved parrot, from leaving me forever. It took me a while to break the reverie and realize that it was just a nightmare.  I didn’t even pet a parrot but there still was the clamoring from across the curtains, deep in the balcony. I slid it through to see a few parrots perched on various levels of grills trying to get a mouthful of the food and water that I had stacked up a week ago in a pair of bird-feeder hanging loosely on the grills for the birds to savor on.

I, now, had regular visitors – birds of various kinds and species – in the balcony ranging from a Sparrow to a cute Maina, to Pigeons and obviously Parrots. These birds filled my mornings with eclectic melodies. I gave them food, they made my day. It is delightful to have them everyday and know them more and vice-versa. Now, my presence don't scare them away. They know me!

After all said and done, what was that dream about?

Do I really wish to break-free myself and fly again leaving everything behind?

Follow Dreams? Like Parrots? Like birds?

Dreams, I tell you!  

Sing it, Nation!

What is it like standing in dark, with hundreds of people, shoulder to shoulder, crooning a melody?

I came vis-à-vis the melody, crooned in the dark with scores of people standing upright, the last time I went to watch a movie – The Martian –  in the PVR cinemas just across my home, with my family. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the regulars of a cinema that runs before a feature presentation begins; in fact it was mundane! This time though, the set of actions that I ran through were unprecedented.

I, on a Sunday evening, was among the few lucky ones to have had our seats reserved – God bless internet booking! To the likes of every family, the father and the son were ready before time and the mother and the daughter were dilly dallying over what to wear. We were late!

Now, thanks to PVR cinemas for providing a buffer of fifteen minutes; full of movie trailers and undesired commercials.

 Sing it, Nation!

We got into the auditorium when some commercials were going on. I helped myself assume my seat next to a lady who had got the whole row occupied with a dozen or more children, whom I couldn’t fathom, again, because of the dark.

It is mandatory to play Jana-Gana-Mana, India’s National Anthem, before any movie begins. No sooner had I got myself comfortable than the big screen flashed – Kindly stand-up for the National Anthem. I stood up!

Now there runs an unsaid protocol wherein one needs to stand-up in order to pay respect when a National Anthem is played, be it of any country. If one doesn’t stand-up or is lazing around, then the moral policing eyes of the people, who are standing, whether in real respect or not, will give a look of disgust that would pierce deeper than a dagger and compel you to stand-up; often this moral policing is done by the people who doesn’t get a head or tail of patriotism or its values.

I often valued these principles at mediocrity, but was always pro-active at such occasions, however brief they maybe. I stood up! My parents and sister, would either hum or croon the anthem with me grinning at them. I didn’t! I didn’t because I couldn’t as I believed I would kill the harmony and also a part of mine was hesitant.

The National Anthem began, as melodiously as it could get, with some old and lazy people still managing to get on their feet. A big tricolored flag flashed heaving on the screen. I looked towards my right, my folks had already began humming and me showing them my teeth in the dark in a very awkward standing position. It was nothing new. I was surprised when I heard the croons coming from my left. The noble lady with all the children was crooning it with all having their right hand on their respective chests. They all were so enthusiastic and so true to themselves. Their singing had purity and was rose-water bathed. It was serene!

Slowly and steadily, the rows ahead and behind ours picked it up and gradually went up to almost each and every one picking up the rhyme to either humming or crooning it. I was mesmerized by such unprecedented happenings in the auditorium brought by those bunch of children and a lady, supposedly their teacher.

The 52 seconds rhyme had its effect on everyone. I, though picked it up late, maybe last, but got along and hummed it if not sing the remains of the anthem. Nostalgia groped me; took me to the days of school, long missed, where we all would, every morning, sing some prayers and our national anthem with so much of pride and so much of love, incredulously; which only got layered under the saw-dust of mundane activities of growing-up.

Later, in the intermission, I figured out that those children were differently abled. I kowtowed in reverence!

p.s. The National Anthem with the differently abled school children and the one with the Army officials at the Siachen Glacier are the best as per me.

Acknowledgement | Gratitude | Acceptance

Ludwig Wittgenstein once quoted, "Knowledge is in the end based on acknowledgement.'' 

Humans know, don't know or deny the very fact and power of Acknowledgement. It is an impetus for perpetual altruism. 

Add this to your life to change your life!

How often do we do that? Or let me ask how often do we acknowledge someone who doesn't concern us? Answer yourself! You will know what I mean. I know we all are totally absorbed in our mundane activities and simply love to crash in the bed by the day's end; but as we go through our day, we actually end up owing more and more to the people around us, to the society, to the elements which we come across our lives in that particular day; basically to the Universe!

Let's take a few examples-

1. Imagine, just missing that '7.45' local train in the morning would change your 'I'm having the best day' to 'I'm up to kill a thousand' in a fraction of second. You know, now, if someone whom you hate, god forbid it to be your ex, pops up out of nowhere and starts vexing you on the platform itself; what would you do? I know what I'll do and I take the liberty to say it for all of us as well. I'll charge on that someone yelling "SPARTA! AHOO... AHOO… AHOO! 

2. Despite how much ever we deny, we know we ache for that like; especially from that one special being. The state wherein you know that the uploaded pic on social media is for your just-turned-into-ex-because-of my-own-mistake girlfriend, maybe taken by her and with her, for which she had always asked you to upload, but you never did; and now, in desperation, wanting to woo her by uploading the same. It aches to see the marvels of that pic not acknowledged and appreciated by others and especially her. Why the HELL did I not get any Likes? This was my best picture ever!

   

3. That one day of the week, where you keep your ass up in the air and face dug deep into the pillow for most of the day - Sunday. You only cease to do so when the fan automatically turns off. What the F...? It's Sunday and no one is allowed in the room, not even parents; then who dared to cross the borders. It's our bai, maid, who got veto powers to overturn every rules as per her convenience and who, meticulously, only forgets to turn on the fan again after she is done. 

4. The late night homecoming with a company of other sex. I'm sure, we all do it quite often. Be it 2 or 3 or 4 o'clock in the night, when we get home in an inebriated state, we must have embraced the smoothness of the dark, the beauty of the night and a man standing quite far with a bamboo stick in the dim light. Seldom, barging into our privacy. 

5. The little drinking plans, in the corner of your society's lawns, right under the moons and stars with your pals lying on the silky, smooth and soft grass; taking shots.  Remember the sighs we've had saying, 'Ah! God bless this cushioning grass.' Going all this long only to get busted! 

From case 1 to case 5 we could only be happy and thankful, instead of being sad about the undesired outcomes. Our exes only teach us patience and tolerance through a hard way. If we miss the train, we must not lose it all, it's all right; the world won't come to an end. That is a beautiful picture, and you know it. Trust me! Show it off for yourself and not for others. Why bother? Be proud of the fact that even your pictures can be this stunning. Rather than cursing the bai, who is not always innocent, hone the skills of sleeping without fan; for she is the one who keeps your room the way it should be. That watchman, whether we know him or not, knows us and keeps our secrets safe with him; without turning it into a scandalous gossip of the society. Do we even know the gardener of our society? He is the reason we have cushioning grass under the sky. It is no shame getting caught drinking, it is only fun to repeat it; repeat it with the same gang!

I believe, "Being acknowledged is magical." You know how it feels once you get acknowledged, so why miss it? These fast paced lives of ours, already, has its watertight compartment of hatred, competition, anger, jealousy, revenge; to which there is no immediate soothing. Let’s spread the good vibes, let’s mingle, let’s hold hand, and let’s walk with ‘ear-to-ear’ smiles; as life is too short to notice everything. Saying a ‘Thank-you’ or a ‘Sorry’ won’t cost us anything, but would definitely cheer up the other person; as being humans we all share one similar trait-Expectation.  

I'm, here, not telling you as to how one should behave but asking you to observe the flip side and accept it, acknowledge it and show gratitude towards it; for everything these three actions can make someone's day. Do it not to make them happy but yourself, as George Orwell rightly states, "Happiness can exist only in acceptance." 

'TRAINS'FORMATION!

Enveloped in the throng of 'I need to be in time' types, I felt a sudden push from behind making me step forward on the half foot raised platform, even before the brakes hissed and the chugging sound stopped. As I rose up onto this raised platform I couldn't fathom any faces or see the happenings in this new, dark world with daylight entering across its breadth. All I could hear was chaotic rumblings from eclectic sources and languages- some within my ken and some beyond my ken! I, with myriad heads, was set into motion, finally now, not gasping for air and feeling like a sliver patty of meat sandwiched with force coming from all the ends, struggling to keep on feet with all my college paraphernalia. Letting loose, hating the odor, going back and forth with the push, sniffing the pungent hair oils, getting a few strands of hair in nose, once or twice; even worse, was getting close to the sump of sweat of a taller man's armpits; I got drenched in sweat- of my own and of others as well! A thirty minute of second class ride of a local train in peak hours got me all these.

The throng of ''I need to be in time'' types

It's August and there is deficit in rainfall, giving rise to the soaring temperatures and humidity drenching one in one's own sweat. These dry spells are not really dry, at least not in terms of perspiration; at least something is trickling down! It was not my first local ride or first "second class" local ride, it was my first after being enslaved to the extra comfortable life of commuting in a car. I didn't have a car for one week, so had to resort to trains. People, in right senses, even in  first class, dread to take a train in peak hours. Second class is out of question, syllabus or maybe universe!

I don't despise second class or deign people commuting in second class. All I hate is the way one enters it and the way one gets out of it. Y'all will know if you commute through local trains of Mumbai. Even first class, for that matter, in the peak hours. When you get out, the perfectly washed, dried and ironed shirt looks like rewashed, crumpled and half or less tucked-in and those black shoes of yours, for which you polished and brushed it for minutes to be able to see your own reflection, show you the white reality of life- being stomped, discolored and the shapelessness of it, much like your physique!

Whatever be the hardships, it is the fastest means to get to one's destination for me and thousands like me.

The second day arose, still my car wasn't with me and I had no options but the local trains. This time again, I was enveloped in the throng of same types and the experience was pretty much like the same. I grew more immune to it and loathed it a little lesser. Only after  two-three more trips it dawned to me that I actually had started liking it and could see the new lessons taught to me.

Even in that chaotic noises and back aching pushes I was smiling, making way for people, understanding the flow of throng. I grew more mature in the local trains within a few sessions than what i grew in a closed classrooms for all these years, with endless theory bombardment.

I learnt the daily struggle, that every local commuter goes through, from worrying about catching timed local trains, then getting a seat, if not a window-seat, then at least a seat to re-showering again, this time in sweat; getting disheveled, surviving unbearable push and force, the momentum of getting on and off-board.
I learnt the spirit of every individual, whether loathing it or loving it, going through it!
I revived the steel-made SPIRIT that every MUMBAIKAR has!
I learnt and loved it the LOCAL TRAIN"S WAY!
I 'TRAINS'FORMED!