Cadence of soul

 Hold on! I could hear light. How often this had happened to me before..? It an eerie whizz that has got emanated from the crust of the lamp and its audible to me now. 

Call it 'Chevlovsky effect' or whatever..I will now have the third shot of today. The mystical chemical reaction had already begun and it has started cleansing the tawdry marks in my soul. Reality is something that has to be quarantined. It is the sickest thing on earth. It kills the fantasies and walks over the cadaver of the illusions. I push reality to the corner with this chemical elixir.. but it pounces back at me with vengence. Reality is the greatest nemesis of mankind.

The light have now changed their note. It is a shriller now. I hate this.. It kills the ambience. Who on earth invented the sodium vapour lamp.? 

I am an antagonist to my own beliefs. Its a pleasing thing to oppose someone and its more pleasing to oppose your own reality. Try it out folks! 

Let me have the fourth shot of the day.

Directors cut: This is supposed to be the first scene in my film. It is jus one frame where a fetid young man with beard gawks at a sodium vapour lamp on the roadside. He is doped as mentioned. Just a lesson in writing screenplay. I should convey the thoughts of that person through some camera angles. Let me try.

Nandi Hills (a short story)

Vijay decided to kill Bhaskar. It was not an immediate decision. He had thought about it a few months back but had to postpone because Bhaskar had taken a leave. 

Vijay felt betrayed. Why english was so hard to him..? Is it his fault that he wears thick glasses and finds difficult to speak with girls.? Some people are groomed like that.. They are failures of a ill-mannered society and a shabby culture. Vijay had never felt so low.

Bhaskar met Vijay a year back. That was the time when Bhaskar was new to office. Some people are flamboyant by default. They make friends easily. They do things with a panache. Bhaskar is one of them. 

"You seem to be quiet always.. Why not you speak out..?" Bhaskar asked Vijay as both lit cigarettes.

"No! I am always like that" Vijay was taken aback by the blatant question.

In conversations after that Vijay opened up and told his complexes to Bhaskar. To list down a few -Vijay is short (his height is 5 feet 2 inches ). Vijay cannot speak English fluently (he studied in Kannada medium). He believes he is impotent (smokes 15 cigarettes per day). He has curly hair inside his ears and wears cylindrical power glasses (attributed to genes). And in top of all that he wants to speak to a girl so badly in the past few days.

"Just go ahead and start the conversation" Bhaskar advised Vijay.

"How can I..? Ananthi is so beautiful.. How can a person like me.. A dumb squib like me talking to her.."

"Hmmm.. Can I help you..? I can introduce her to you" Bhaskar had a faint smile.

"No! for gods sake.. Leave me alone.. I am more than happy with my Byron and shelly" 

"Then marry them.. Dont ever think of Ananthi" Bhaskar left.

Vijay stood in front of mirror that night. He does this so often. 

"I know these people. So mean and so trite. I cannot reduce my self esteem and go and talk to someone.. Why should I..? Is she so important.. Let her come and talk to me.."

The following day was Ananthi`s birthday.. People were wishing her all the way from morning. She looked more beautiful that day. 

"Come on Vijay! It is a good oppurtunity. Go and wish her" yelled Bhaskar.

"Shut your mouth! Why on earth should I wish a stranger for their birthday.. Everyday on earth thousands of people were born" 

"Hey! You are nuts.. Its better you consult a psychiatrist"

"Mind your words Bhaskar! Please try to argue within your limits" Vijay left as he shouted this words.

That night when Vijay stood infront of mirror he decided to kill Bhaskar. He was waiting for an oppurtunity from then on. It came yesterday. Everyone in the office decided to go to Nandi hills for a excursion.

"Hey Vijay!  You are gonna come for this excursion" Bhaskar commanded vijay.

This is what they call 'digging ones own grave' ... Vijay had to make exquisite plans to kill Bhaskar. It should look like a accidental fall from the mountain.. He should also take Bhaskar alone detaching him from the friends circle to accomplish the ordeal. Lets see what happens..

It was a jeering journey in the bus. People were singing and dancing. Ananthi was in white dress looked like an angel. Vijay and Bhaskar were sitting in the same seat. Vijay was not involved in the activities. 

"I should atleast kill one useless person on earth.. Being stupid is not his fault.. But how can he mock at me.. I am destined for something big.. How can he mock at me for not talking to Ananthi.." Thoughts went like a flocking feather after a bird hunt.

People started talking the same old office stories once they reached Nandi hills. Everyone tried their best to show that they were child-like by their heart. Vijay wanted to act quickly.

"Can you come with me for a walk? I want to talk something personally" Vijay asked Bhaskar.

"Ya.. Why not" 

Nandi Hills has a fort built by Tipu sultan. There is a special place called Tipu`s drop from where the prisoners where dropped from the hill. In the current topography if someone falls from Tipu`s bend they will directly come to the second hairpin bend.

"It had been a terrible year for me Bhaskar" Vijay started.

"Hey.. Cool down.. May be you are thinking so much.. Have you been to NIHMANS..? I told you to do so."

"No Bhaskar! I may not need it"

"Hmmm.. you keep turning down my suggestions"

Vijay laughed. The valley infront seemed to echo. 

It happened in a split second. "You dont need to live anymore" shouted Vijay and kicked Bhaskar into Tipu`s drop.

Venkatappa received a urgent call. He called two of constables and reached the 2nd hairpin bend of Nandi hills. As the police jeep reached the spot, people moved and made way for Venkatappa. 

It was a gory scene. Venkatappa had to bend backwards to see the Tipu`s drop on top . It was like a faint dot. 

"Hmmm.. What is name of the victim?" asked Venkatappa.

"Vijay Bhaskar! sir" told one of his constables.

I read my 2015 diary

Daylight was pouring through the windows of the wagon. The smooth tweeters gave a shrill and the air conditioner soothed the eyelids. I preffered Pink Floyd.
I have yearned for cars. Those days, our neighbours used to have a Premier Padmini.. I used to wonder why people call it Fiat. It used to be mode of travel for our imaginary journeys to the destinations of which always used to change.

Bangalore is a nice to place to start your career with if you dont consider the 'harsh reality' part of it. All you need is to do is to adopt yourself to 'swalpa adjust maadi' ing with the people.
Those days, I used to walk everyday to office in the morning. Bangalore wakes up late and all you get is some half sleeping magas serving masala dosa.
I used to meet those people who sleep in the roadside.. Those children.. Who used to sleep tasting the taste of tar. And that small boy who always sits near traffic signal and wishes me as I pass.
I never used to wish him back. Those were days when I started building my bourgeois basements. I didnt know then that happiness is inversly proportional to bank balance.

Then I started to go by autorickshaw to office. I saw less of the road side people. I used to take a book to read on the way. Kipling, Dickens, Byron,.. Now I saw a different set of people. Life changes right.?
I was sent onsite to the city of angels. Ya, You are right. I got a bike after I returned from there. I used to like those long distance trips with my sweetheart. Hmmm.. Motorbikes.. Its one of crazy inventions of mankind. I was a part of 4 minor accidents in bangalore from 2009 till 2012.

I was sent onsite to the land of rising sun. Needless to say I came back. I bought a Audi Q7 Quattro.. I married my sweetheart. I started delivering lectures on the 'six sigma' and have written a few books about them also.. Next time if you go to landmark, see them in 'Non-fiction' section in the first floor.
Here I am.. I have shifted to the fourth gear and its now its 'The great gig in the sky' in the stereos. Pink Floyd is immortal and so is audi Q7.

Nowadays I realised that I am not at all noticing the roadside children. Those people have never changed. Still someone sits near the signal. Still those homeless children on Tar road.
Its cold in Bangalore nowadays.. I feel like burning all the literature I have read to warm them up. Who is joining with me.?

JarHead

That day passed without any significant activity. That was a Friday and people are expected to leave for the day very early, only to swipe their credit in the money thirsty malls in Bangalore. There was an apparent urge in the faces of people as they returned from the afternoon round of coffee-break.
"Hey dude! You didnt come for the coffee?".
"Ya! I know" I replied.

I saw the monitor. It stared back at me in return. It was when the telephone tringed. It was a long trrrrrring. Must be a call from the customer... May be he will be asking some questions which will be a fodder for my technical hunger.. May be he is appreciating the piece of code written by me some six months back (my last attempt of glory).. I picked up the call..

"Hello Sir, Am I speaking to Mr.@@@@..? This is Reena calling on behalf of XYZ bank..Would you like to..?"

"I would like to ask you one thing ..How much are you paid Ms.Reena..?"

It was not new for me. I had seen periods of no-work. But this time it was for a longer period of time. It began with a recession in US. It still has its roots on the declaration of war on Iraq by Mr.Bush. Its root is on what is called as sep.11. It again has its roots on guys like Osama and so on.

Seems strange. But this is how I analyse things nowadays. I am not here to do this 'news-channel' style analysis. But reality is this. I go home from office at 6PM everyday and I am forced to watch news channels as I totally disagree with the shows which claim to hunt for talent.

I went for an Onsite. It was last year when I was sent to the city of angels. Well..thats when I saw the faces of people whom I yearn to converse with. They hold a doctorate in their area of interest and still keep their head cool and straight. My 'knowledge' is like a David infront of their Goliathness. Well.. David slays Goliath only in the books.

I never complain for the sorry state of being software engineer. But just give me some work which will help me to prove my mettle.

These are extract from the diary of my friend who used to work in a leading software firm in Bangalore. He had quit his job recently to start a business. He recently shared on how his knowledge on 'Supply-Chain management' helps in his idly-dosa business.

John Mascerhanes for you

As he took the pick and touched the strings of guitar, he began to forget everything. John Mascerhanes was stoned. He had multiple shots of cocaine that night. He had a fight with Elena that night and may be because of that he may have overdosed. He sat in the balcony of his 2BHK apartment and started with his guitar.As he caressed the strings to give life to a Pink Floyd number,he felt the beat. The beat that had chilled his spine. The ecstacy on earth. The orgasmic feeling that one gets when they create music.

The tempo of increased and it was reaching a crescendo. Why should you think, that he has to get into daily chores of life. He was a born musician.
When he has the guitar in his hands.. It screams, cries, laughs and some time talks. He persuaded for what wanted. The one dream which he chased till he saw the dark side of it. He still lives on this side.

Elena speaks photography. She composes optical sonnets. She also goes high with cocaines and thats what brought John and her together. She was pale for 27 years. Hunger and dosing are the parents of creativity and both John and Elena had both of them in plenty. They were college mates. And they were living together since then. Now Elena wanted to have a baby and thats the reason why there was a misunderstanding.

John played in the bars around Panjim. He used to play immortal numbers of Beatles and so on infront of a doped audience who can see music and hear colours. He had been a part of three music bands which had never released an album. He had given up the idea anyways.

If I had finished telling about John Mascerhanes with last paragraph, then you would not be having the complete information.

That day, after playing a solo in his balcony.. He went back to his room and dosed himself to death.

Vincent Prabhakar

Hello Sir/Madam.. Just two minutes..Do you know Mr.Prabhakar..? His full name is Vincent Prabhakar. He used to live in the corner house in our street and used to drive a age old bullet motorcycle. Can you recollect him.?
Anyways, as you dont know about him. I should tell a story. Kindly bear with me.

This Vincent Prabhakar is a poet whose feathers never flocked beyond the crowded streets of Emmahalli. Writing a poem is one of the adulterations of the adulthood. But he went far beyond that. He writes a lot of self-sympathetic poems where he portrays himself like a ugly noob in the art of loving. He writes his classics in 40 page unruled notebooks whose stack had increased from last January. From then on till his death this September, He had completed 30 notebooks straight. By the way, he died last saturday at the age of 26. He was laid to rest in St.Stephens crematorium which is very adjacent to the Emmahalli bus-stop.
Till now I had not come to the story, sorry sir I have a lot of diversions. Even Vincent is also like that Sir.

This Vincent loved a girl. She was the daughter of the local MLA. You might have seen that in many movies. But what interests me was the collection of poems that the great poet had left behind and his notes. He is well versed in Kannada. But the language is just a trail of his thoughts. His lines in the poem are just the trails left behind by the prancing horse which is his thoughts. I thought of quoting his words here, but this blog is too small a stage to showcase the maestero.

Lets not go philosophical. I do run a risk of losing the readability of this blog if I do that. I will give you bare facts.
Emmahalli`s sole claim for fame was a big-ben like tower clock till Hema came here. She completely shattered the dreams of everyone in Emmahalli. She stayed in the house adjacent to Vincent`s. He used to tell us about her voice.(She is a trained carnatic music singer). She comes to collect the flowers from the corner shop every morning and that when we came to know what made Vincent to go mad behind her. She is beautiful! I have tried to include some adjectives here.. But English is running out of adjectives.

Vincent spends a lot when he is happy and we have a reason to praise his poems. Soon it grew into a addiction to him. He will write a poem and then go for a smoke and then will sit again fresh for a new poem. It has just become an oxygen for his literary life. We (5 star friends group) were praising his poems all the way. I think I praised it in the beginning of this post also (the prancing horse!) and I hope the remaining 3 stars would have already written an ode in their respective blogs.

We also thought she was very much involved in love towards him. It seems last friday Vincent saw her in the garden with another person. And both of them were alone.
Vincent`s letter of departure was a poem in itself. He claims that glossiest of the diamonds leave behind deepest of cuts and so on.

We.. from Emmahalli friends association (5 star group) have decided to publish a collection of Vincent`s poems. Kindly give some donation sir. Vincent Prabhakaran is a great poet.

Master of his own Arts

He was 26 and he looked like a 45 year old. The overgrown beard showed that it had not seen razor for a week. His pale eyes were bracketed by thick spectacles in an attempt to look at his inner blindness.

"Hello DP" he yelled.

Now..thats a little surprising. Only my close pals call me by this name and whenever someone calls me DP my memories go back to my school days. It was in those when an official "Divya Prasanna" got into a short and user-friendly "DP".

"Sorry I cant recognise you" I said looking deep into the sullen eyes of his.
He told his name which I cant mention here. To be frank, I didnt recognise him from his name. It was one of those common first names that you would come across in south India. But i didnt want to embarrass him.

"I know you did'nt get me by name, I know that" he said. His first smile revealed traces of nicotine on an ill-arranged teeth.

"I am sorry to say that. But you know all these days I am into lotta work.."

"You into Software.?" He asked. That was a blatant question.

"Yes. Kinda.."

My cellphoned beeped with a good evening message.

"So you should have a fat paycheck, a costly mobile, a credit card and cozy friends"

"So.. What do you try 2 say..?" I asked with a profound caution.

"Oh.. sorry I didnt try to offend you in anyway..Thanks for the talk" He said and lit a cigarette (without a filter).

"Hey.. Dude.. cool down.. what are you up to..? How come in Bangalore..?" I tried to break the unpleasant calm.

"I am up to nowhere.. I am in Bangalore because life took me here" He said as a thick cloud of smoke engulfed his face.

"You working here.. A BPO/An ITES...? Hey.. U look like a Journo.. workin in TOI..?" I asked.

"I did my M.A in English Literature. And life has already shown the harsh side of it..Life is not a
spectacle or feast; It is a predicament" He said.

"Yo.. stunning words yaar.. Predicament... That should be from word list 32 in Barrons" I said.

"Bar..What..? I've read only Byron"

"Leave it yaar.. I gave up preparing for any competitive exams.. It is not in my spectre anymore" I said.

"I feel a verse from Byron as I see your restlessness"

"Me.. Restless.. who said..? You callin me 'restless' guy.. How dare.." I was restless.

"Hmmm... Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom"

"And Jill came trembling after.." I said.

Among other things.. I came to know that his childhood sweetheart, one Ms.Anandhi had left him and that he smoked 15 cigarettes a day. He spoke a lot about Byron and Shelly. He gave me a cold look when I asked about his job.

All throughout we meet a lot of people in the daily life and each of them carry a story behind them. Some crumble with weakness and sought for a premature ending for their life. Some stand brave and fight against distress who soon will reach the pinnacle. And in between them there are people like our young rebel.

We just reached an ATM as we walked talking with each other. I just excused to take some money for the weekend. My friend preferred to stay outside and enact a soliloquy with his filterless cigarette.

As I came out of the ATM counting my notes. He asked with a brisk tone "DP! Have you considered taking a Insurance?".