Monday, June 26, 2017

RAINS ETCETERA

1.55 AM of June 26, 2017 is possibly the same time, the previous day (June 25), the rains debuted. The drizzles of Friday evening, the onslaught of Thursday or the suddenness of Wednesday stood nowhere closer to what ensued last night; continued to surprise till today afternoon. Rains, we thought are here. But by 1.55 AM of June 26, 2017 the show put up by the rains lack the ferocity, velocity and audacity of last night.

Did the earth hatch a conspiracy to attract rains? Is this then the annual moment of romance? Speaking of romance, I can only think of Raveena Tandon causing Yellow Fever in Tip tip barsaa paani (Akshay Kumar literally rolling and drooling around her).

Thankfully no political party has claimed responsibility for the instant burst of happiness insured by these rains.  Thankfully no terrorist groups have threatened of being in secret possession of weapons, which can trigger massive rains at the drop of a hat.

At this interesting juncture, I think rains come with their own package of etcetera (etc.).

As the rains swell, the pulse rate of Mumbai’s local train network drops. Even though the spirits of travellers and train spotter updaters like me fly high, the trains prefer to take it easy. This being one part of the package, we aren’t downplaying the possibilities of traffic snarls. Many of us blame it on the rains. But these snarls are necessary during monsoons. Or else air and noise pollution won’t breed. Would we really like to see them fail at producing their usual off springs of anguish, irritability and disasters?    

Trees are the permanent subscribers of rains package of etcetera. They keep on putting weight all year long. Just when they expect the municipal authorities to help them tone their body a little, their trust is left betrayed. So when the rains descend they activate the package and start falling on cars, humans, electricity cables, telephone wires and at times on themselves.

When rains dwindle, I am reminded of the seminars on climate change. I love the venues, the speakers, their sessions and the hosts who keep pouting at television cameras. If the talks held in these seminars are real, do they also work towards decreasing the impact of etcetera?

Thirty minutes into writing this and the rains have retracted. But mind you, the package of etcetera hasn’t.

I heard the dogs bark and see them running in pursuit of a hefty catch? I only hope they don’t spare its life. Because if they do, the rains might make it rot and the package of etcetera might grow hefty. We may have to pay an extra premium of tolerating the strange stench. Dogs are illiterate. They only understand the language of love and the unconditional freedom to poop.

The rains will recuperate; we can hope at least. The package of etcetera though requires rethinking.

Till it rains again, I am thinking of ordering etcetera online (much before GST slaps in).

-Virtuous Vociferous

Sunday, June 18, 2017

WHERE DO THE STORIES BEGIN FROM?

It’s the mid of June.

The monsoons should have been here by now.

As my skin bears the brunt of the sun, I gasp for breath.

On certain occasions, I’ve tried experimenting during nights.

I tried keeping the windows of my bedroom open to the skies.

All the experiments seem to have failed miserably.

I haven’t given up yet. I am planning to experiment again.

This time, I am going to extract the umbrella from my bag and deliberately leave it unattended at home.

I am sure when the skies see me walk boisterously without the umbrella in tow; they will open up and release the fluid energy of monsoons to set me free, my city free and its citizens free. I hope the skies will open up for the entire nation and for every Indian. 

Are the monsoons also capable of assuring peace? Or can they postpone the insurgencies, we are faced with recently?

Darjeeling is burning. Kashmir is mourning. Our hearts are bleeding.

We are in need of an experiment again. Will monsoon be that experiment? If it turns out to be successful, we will have our own Ooh la la moment. If the experiment fails, we will still celebrate because that is where I sense the beginning of a story.

Thus the title, which is also a question - WHERE DO THE STORIES BEGIN FROM?

Each one of us has a story. We are humans, we are stories. When we set out to trace the beginning of our stories, we are confronted with a mother’s womb. It’s in there, our mothers proclaim. They add, “It is in here, in the womb, where the stories begin from?”

To disagree on this account is definitely human.

Just last week, I had least expected an angle from where my story began.

Take for instance the title - Biryani is an emotion.

I was blown over by the title. As I kept appreciating the line and its beautiful layout, I could also sense the beginning of stories.

The line, the title of Biryani is an emotion is bravely finds a mention in a cute little diary which was gifted over to me by my Cyan Buddy.

She was a little reluctant to gift me the diary. She mentioned, it was supposed to be my farewell gift (now that’s a different story to begin with). But somehow, the delivery got delayed. She had to reverse the decision and present it to me as my welcome gift (this would be the sequel to the different story, which I might begin with later).

A mere gift, a short pocket diary that it is could have evolved into nothing new until I decided to turn the diary into a chronicler. This diary will hold stories of my food expeditions. Every time, I end up loving a certain cuisine or am simply left speechless by a moment, which involves food, I will write about it in the diary. In the same diary, which carries that lovely title of – Biryani is an emotion.

I think I have found a story to begin with. The beginning would materialize when I start flaunting the diary and the little pieces of delicious surprises; I wish to write within!

But this is one part of the many stories, which begin from nowhere and find their way somewhere.

Imaginations form the other part about these stories, which also fuel their evolution. The choice rests with the storyteller; either to narrate them in a fictional format or try to fit them in that long beaten genre of nonfiction.

How do these imaginations start taking the shape of a story? I don’t think there would be a definitive reply to that.

For me, my imaginations could run wild and keep fluctuating between the mole, the nose ring and a tattoo somewhere. But how much time will they take to translate into stories! Only time will tell. At least I can rest assured that my story can be expected of having a beginning.

As I grow a word closer to conclude this blog post, I can hear that distinct sound of raindrops.

Seated by the partly open window, I can see the earth relish the momentary magic of rains.

Only I wish, the showers could have lasted longer. But nature has some other plans.

Till the time those plans materialize, I am happy to realize – my story has found a beginning. If your stories haven’t found one yet, ask yourself the same question, “Where do the stories begin from?”


-Virtuous Vociferous