some clutter, some rubble, backpacks - but mostly me

since the last about 6 years, i have maintained these annual lists of books that i have read (or re-read) and movies that I have watched (or watched again). the usual trend each year has been more inclined towards books (which i cannot do without) than movies (which i enjoy, but can live without). but that's not the thought here.

watched 2 movies this weekend, and today was adding there names in my 2005 list, and got stuck there wondering about the 'purpose' of this 'habit' that i started one day, a few years back, and religiously follow.

and it occurred, how often do we get back to our 'backpacks'.....
1. it could be such book and movie lists/ or
2. piles of books, so called a collection (mostly gathering dust)/ or
3. audio tapes or music cd's bought over many years (a lot of them out of our taste now, sitting in some box or shelf)/ or
4. a dozen or so scrap books including some thoughts, paper cuttings, clips, abstract diagrams and other zig zag/ or
5. a lot of stationery items, half sticky and broken, lying unused, but carried from house to house/ or
6. other apparent rubble incl - dry flowers, leaves, shells, stones, little show pieces, and other junk....

what am i trying to seize here, i wonder? What’s the purpose here?
1. time
2. moments
3. memories
4. a link to the past (when i see this stuff in the future)
5. an insight into my own personality and how i have changed (or perhaps not) over the years

or perhaps, a bit of it all....

for example -
i look at the tapes i had when i was in early school, and there are a couple of songs from backstreet boys, boyzone, spice girls and other such foolishness (as i think of it 'today') also ; some more typical loud music with no real depth ; and othercluttering songs n albums - i cannot get myself to play these today, at all, and yet they sit where do they do, eating the space, and reminding me subtly of days where perhaps i may have been just carefree enough to play any music, without the pre-notions of how deep it'd be, of whether it would touch my soul or not.

i would like to think today, that i have a good 'tasteful' taste in music. but in many ways, it does point to me, of howjudgemental i am on what i'd like to hear, and what is trash for me ; of the difference i have found over the years in music which is soul-stirring, and music i feel is just for the sake of it........and then i'd like to think that i wish i wouldn't say 'my taste has developed'......i wish i'd just see it as 'my tastes havechanged'......for the bygones must have filled some hours all those years back too, with happiness or whatever.
but i can't help being so critical, of self, and its just a wish.

i also look at the vast book collection i have, and which grows exponentially, always.
i remember my senior school days, when all i read was sheer philosophy, theosophy, and other such stuff, a lot of other ruritarian classics, C&H, and for humour - archie comics.
i also remember the teen years of sidney sheldons, jeffrey archer, agathas and holmes, danielle steel and other fiction.
flashback and the nancy drews, hardy boys, famous five, five find outers, and several other mystery(with no mystery, as I think today) series.
and further back the couldn't-grow-up-without enid blyton's, and the desi comics - chacha chouwdhary, pinki, billu, raman and the lot (a few names have escaped my memory completely for now).......
and all of those zillion other booksthat i got to read, and think about, and grew on......
and then the trasition back to my senior school days, and beyond, till now, and growing more, of books that i like to readnow, and of the sidney/danielle which i read today only when my mind cannot comprehend anything else ; of the comicsand blyton's i love to get back to when i find them hidden and staring a while -
and i think its been long, my relationship with books, they all have been so significant in each phase of my life, thru mychildhood to now - they all have occupied hours and hours of my life, have left imprints, thoughts that have stayed, otherswhich inspired, others which made me dream, and hope, and learn, and most importantly - broaded my vision to see beyond the fence.

...and in the same league the zillions newspaper cuttings i have kept, and pasted in the diaries, none of which i have everthrown out , the other scrap books, and articles, and little gifts which friends and schoolmates, or college mates havegiven, of notes, and chits, and other ink blots......

and all of this, i carry from destination to destination, from one door-step to the other when i move houses, and i wonder at the marvel of how the load has increased, -

and when i close my eyes and look for the ’purpose' ; I realise -
that perhaps, this rubble, this clutter, gives me the privilege of some free space in my mind, which otherwise would have been cluttered with the clutter ;
it gives me the gift of recollecting my past at a glance, than to have to rake my brains ;
it gives me the childhood I have preserved in the collections ;
in the years embedded in each such data, each such list ;
in how much I know about my own self through all the years ; which otherwise memory wouldn’t have done justice to –

and then I can see somewhat clearly, the burden & the essence of my being, perhaps, has been lightened in these literal collections than struggling for space in my mind. i have been able to preserve a past in print, than in the vaporising memories.

And then I am glad, of all my backpacks.

a night divide

i have slept early, very early at 8 in the evening. and a 4-5 hours of continous sleep is good enough for me, so i am woken up by the re-charged cells somewhere still night. i take my cell from the bedside table, and unlock it to see the time as 00:55....yes that explains why i am feeling fresh enough even in the middle of the night.

i take a few sips from the glass of water, also on the sidetable. the night light from the living room continues to throw the faint yellow glow, only it appears spooky to me for that moment. i'd rather the darkness than this faint glow scattering yellowish spots in a dark background.

i remove the covers, and feel like changing from the half sweater i am wearing to a t-shirt. maybe i am over estimating my own laziness to expect myself to change. i must atleast lower the heating. the radiator is hidden behind the room door and lowering the heating would mean taking off the door stopper, holding the door so it doesn't bang and resonate in the night hush, turning the knob to reduce the heat, putting the stopper again, and all this on the left side of the bed, while i am cozy(and a bit too warm) on the right side. chuck it.

i am too awake, and wonder if repeating alphabets in the reverse would bore me to sleep again. thirst reaches my throat again, and now i need to get up. this is like the few things in life which always take our full attention no matter how much we'd like to skip them. when i feel thirsty at night, i'd run for some water but for a quake. i get up, take the glass, go to the kitchen, run the cold tap water for a while for the water to be chlorine free, and then greedily drink it. i fill up the glass and get back to the bed. the glass gets back on the side table, and i on the right side, under the covers, in the half sweater. i'd be asleep in a while, even if a little warm, but its fine. i think, without any urge, about things i won't remember in the morning. i also notice i haven't dreamt as yet, and perhaps i will when i sleep again now.

the night has been divided by waking up in the middle. waking up loud and clear, and not drowsy eyed and cracking. i am now lying straight, eyes on the black shadows on the ceiling. a few moments, and i decide to pull down the eye shutters and get some sleep, for its office in the morning, and my alarm will be going sooner than i'd know. i unlock my cell once again, and check the time, its 01:07.

and the last thought i remember is i have been awake just over 10 minutes, by the watch that is, and yet the divide seems larger than it is worthy of, perhaps.

Statutory warnings, eh?

How much do the statutory warning and cautions really help us?

We pay them attention only when we want to - if we desire to, else they're just another word formations on the packs. And the regulations guys think there job is done if the labels are in place. How pathetic is that, who the hell would care unless they'd wish to care? Half the regulations seem fake. When cigarettes, pan masala(was that it?) etc can be sold proudly with these labels, I wonder why they don't sell drugs in similar fashion too - well labeled with similar warnings. Why garb half the stuff, when its all out there. Who gave whom the right to decide which is fatal, how much is fatal - cigarettes yes yes, drugs no no? Is that too radical? Before you think i am dying to get drugs the legal way, nopes, me not on dopes :). I just think we should drop the sham. People who want to take something will take it, no matter the bans, no matter the warnings. They'll find there ways to find it, take it and the rest. Why can't it be just left on the individual to decide? But thats too big a question i guess, what would happen in a lawless land, they'd argue....

A Silent conversation

a memory from the time lost just flashed. it was one of the best outings i had with a friend of mine during college days.me and my friend milann went out at around 7 in the evening for a quick eat out at pizza hut at mg road. we were both lost in-our-own-world mood that day. took a bus to mg, went to pizza hut, 1st floor, and had an evening which was gr8 for us, wierd for the others staring at us though...coz there was no conversation b/w us the entire evening. after deciding what to eat, there was total silence. lost in our thoughts. but at peace. as if talking to each other, but no need to verbalise any thought. there were no issues to discuss, no questions to ask, no gossip to report, nothing to force out from the system, no necessity of talking and indulging in a verbal speech when all one wants to do is, sit back and relax, no speech, but yeah,
not alone.....somewhere in b/w i realised the waiters were wondering if we are two wierdos, maybe we looked that day, but who the hell cared.....they can't throw you out for being silent, too silent. but it was one of the days that remains embedded in the good-memories sector in my head. in many ways, one of the most peaceful conversations i ever had over a meal.

sometimes, silent conversations are a delight, away from the chaotic verbal world.

sometimes i feel failed actions are like failed acts on a stage.

you think and think again, on what is the best way, how to do, all those plans, and all those decisions. you feel you've thought well, your estimations are correct, and you are all prepared. your metrics are accurate, your will is intact, your hopes are high, and you work like a dog.

and then somehow you find that when the curtains have been raised, and the act has really begun, you find yourself lost - again. alone. confused. aimless.
standing in front of the audience , your estimations, your ends staring at you, waiting for you to get to the end of the act to meet the applause.

and then the questions arise - if you overestimated yourself, you thought you would not only perform, but out-perform, and here, you stand and stare numb. its wierd where the most statistical estimations crumble without a trace of work put in. how does the audience know what went into the preparations, or how much you labored, how much you worked, they just sit and stare, for them only the performance matters, not the sweat lost. and you stand, shamefaced, unable to deliver a line. it seems meaningless then, like you are in a spin, a web, a confusion so engulfing, that you question your own self, for there is none other to question.

and all you do is stare, and wonder, how???

GET THIS DONE !!

when i came to the uk, had decided to make a nice scrap book kinda for the places i visit here, people i meet, things that strike. it was to be an all-in-one album kinds (something non-electronic for a change).
i bought a nice book, and then gave myself an excuse for not having some tape/glue to stick the cut-outs, snaps et all. now after about 4 months of this decision, and the book gathering dust, i finally bought a tape 2 weeks back. now everythings
in place, except the final kick of motivation that i apparently need to finally get this thing done. wonder after office, where time goes, the same tv-movies-books-music-cook stuff.
thought if id' write it down, perhaps it'll be done faster than it
otherwise ever would. (the lazy me would stare me in the face)t

thats what this is .......a reminder to GET THIS DONE, the alarm's died long back, its time i get this done.....sigh !!