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Showing posts from May, 2005

Atlantis, the lost continent of my childhood

In the beginning as far I can remember, the lush green strip of land was ensconced by the Arabian Sea and a thin river line that was lost into an estuary. A billion species of life thrived in the tiny whirlpools. Sunshine fell on the flowing waters in every fissure.

When it rained, the natives who lived in the shanty could see the silver lines of thunder afar and scampered to bring the cows and kids home from the field and the wantons of country roads. The wind wove a symphony across the countless coconut trees that arched over the white and golden sand dunes. Folks called the place as island, with no name, perhaps to remind the sovereignty of the land that leant over the timeless ebb and flow of the ocean.

That was when I used to visit my grandparents' house during our summer vacations. We, the boys from city found our space and deflated the overcrowded time from our senses in the island. The travel included trekking by bus and ferry boats. The folks in the house had to paddle acro…

Love in Chicago

Evening drifted alongside my meanderings in downtown chicago. The dusk kept the city in an imaginary scaffolding and I listened to the voice from across the seven seas. The voice lingered long after the beer froth and the frolic were over in wacker dr and Clark n Lake street, and still it lingered.

The house of blues was bracing up for another friday night.

Poplars sprang at the other end of city. They were looking upwards for starlings and in midway of the ascent. Lake michigan was like a huge drop of tear that fell ever so slowly as if time was suspended for a while...

The last train was rattled out of its torpor at Howard. Evanston was still a few miles away. I slumped back to my seat, tried to remember the subway singer's song... It must be Gibran who walked past the door to the adjacent car. He seemed to be returning home to May Ziadeh. She could be Hannah or S, waiting for the prophet.

The breeze from Lake michigan began to stir the night.

Back in my studio apartment phone …

The comical unfunniness of being

In one of those epiphanies in my life, I was struck by this vision: the vision of an almost comical inevitability of the tragedy of our everyday lives. We wallow in the instant need of responding to external and internal stimuli, that the response itself takes a tangential ride from the original stimulus. Attempts to gain a supposedly broader and deeper perspective to evaluate and approximate are fraught with a curious mix of the sublime and the ridiculous. You may think of this whole affair of living life as something which is fundamentally funny.

This reminds me of a book I've read sometime back, when towards the end the protagonist of the story looses his weight totally, stays suspended upon the sky of his hometown. From that vantage point he could watch the town unfolding its vignettes of human follies and cruelties afflicted upon themselves and others. The behavior patterns have become so predictable, that the more he watched, the less he became amused and he started losing th…