A Day In The Life of a Positive Pessimist

From: editor-fiction@museindia.com

Reply-To: editor-fiction@museindia.com

To: bhuvan.jain@gmail.com

Cc: gsprao2003@yahoo.co.in

Date: May 24, 2006 3:29 PM

Subject: RE: Your Submission of "On Cylcic Dreaming"

Dear Bhuvan,

This refers to the fiction "On Cyclic Dreaming" you have submitted for our consideration. We have assessed it for inclusion in the "Young Voices" of next issue of Muse India but find that it falls short of our expectations. You may submit any other work of yours for our consideration. If it reaches us before the end of this month, we can consider it for the next issue.

We appreciate your interest in Muse India.

Warm wishes,
G S P Rao
Managing Editor

Man, I love my life :-) !

Hone hone de nasha
Khone khone ko hai kya
Ek saans mein pee ja
Zara zindagi chadha
Hai yeh toh ek jashan
Tu thirakne de kadam
Abhi saanson mein hai dam
Abhi chalne de sitam

- "Khalbali", Rang De Basanti.

The He.

Waqt ki qaid mein
Zindagi hai magar
Chand lamhe yahi hai
Jo azad hai..
Inko kho kar meri janeja,
Zindagi bhar naa taraste raho ...

He woke up to a feeling of loneliness and desolation. All was lost. There was very little hope. Voices from last night, that spoke of how weak and docile and weary and defeated he looked still churned in his head, like an irritating song stuck in your head that wouldn't go away.

I mean, to think of it, he stil knew, somewhere deep down, that all these voices were wrong, as they've been in the past. He tried to remember the promise he made to himself -- about doing his own mistakes and learning from them, rather than listening to what other people say, based on the knowledge that serves their life, their perspective, their dogma well. Good for them. But definately not as good for him.

"Listen to the inner voice."

"Pay heed to the basic instinct."

"Impulsive things are among the very few intended things that you actually convert into action - respect them"

But then he thought he was giving himself too much gyan. Philosphising where there was no need to. Ending up being somebody else by trying too hard to be himself. Thinking too much. Not giving enough importance to himself. Giving too much importance to what people thought of him.

So, there. He decided to go wild. Though drinking always made him feel sick in the end .. he decided today would be different. And he would make it so, by not trying too hard to make it different. It all started flowing, The Release. The innocent Freedom (acquired through uninnocent means). The utter, blind contentment with the universe as a whole. That inconsequential dance that made him smile. The nicotine that made his world go round and blissful. That golden, carefree walk across colaba from Cafe Mondegar to home, singing Free Bird out loud. The finishing cigerette butt he threw behind his stride, as a mark of unswerving respect to the fact that in the end, everything -- everything -- fades (it wouldn't be so perfect any other way). The leaf he tore as a replacement of the cigerette that made him fly, as a symbol that would remind him of his flight even after he lands.

And when he went back to his bed to sleep, he realised that he is perfect, doing things he was meant for. Everything in this universe was. That there was hope all around, and it was up to him to convert it into a smile. He decided to go ahead and take the plunge.

This post might make no sense to you, if the you actually exists. Well, catch me if you can.

Symphony that's life, yeah.

Sweet Home Alabama
Where the skies are blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord I'm coming Home to you

There's something about music, isn't it. I realised this as I stood on my 11th floor balcony, with the wind blowing and finding it's way into my t-shirt, spreading out over my sweaty body, cooling me and drying me. I kept surveying my view as i heard the song and saw the sky indeed blue, and wondered if ther was one place I could really call sweet home. Mumbai, probably.. very ambiguos though. There's something about coming back, just like there something about going away. Going away and coming back are perhaps my favorite parts of any journey..

I was hungry this morning when i woke up. So, i searched places for food. Today's a sunday, so no sandwitch wallas along the bombay business district.. ended up going all the way to churchgate station for a couple of vada paos. I had my ipod along. Such a gift. No distance is a long one when u can listen to music along. And coincide each step with each beat, head held high, smiling, striding forward in a melodic synchrony. Watching over magnificent old buildings -- (Mumbai University and high court in particular.. that whole walk along Oval Maidan is one of the finiset in the city), sun silhouetting through some of them, appreciating their granduer and feeling it within, walking along vast grounds amid a vast people. It makes life seem more beautiful than it actually appears to be in the course of everyday life and all your problems just another beat you can head bang to :-).