Qawwal-E-Ashes

Victory Dance.

In a picturesque celebration after retaining the Ashes, right palm behind the ear, left hand stretched out with gusto, an interflow of tone and rhythm, keeping the notes high, Graeme Swann leads his troops in singing qawwali.

It’s the sprinkler dance of course.

Reflections In The Mirror # 4

This is my life, ending one minute at a time. Caught up in imbroglio, my will seems no longer mine. As reality sinks in, to shatter my dreams, I am being forced to surrender my will.

The Lifeline is a feasible option, though it’s not something that will alleviate the downturn. It will, nevertheless, provide temporary relief to the prevailing circumstances and the unrelenting trepidation. However, the entire process, while being perturbing, will bring about mortification. It will uncover the skeletons in the closet. The worst part is that I am not in charge of the process. I am a mere foot soldier who will act upon instructions.

Once there, with the interference, the scenario of the 2008-09 season will repeat. I am sick of having others control my life. Even though the Lifeline is somewhat advantageous — at least better than staying in the dark age — but the interference will ruin everything. It will completely subvert the recovery. It is deviating me from the core issue, on which I am unable to focus because of these uwarranted distractions. This is my life, ending one minute at a time. And I am a mere bystander, watching it wither away. I need to be in control: it’s my life, the only life to realise my ambitions. I have to focus only my goal, like an archer who sees nothing but the target.

Reflections In The Mirror # 3

Buzzards are encircling. Every buzz, every peal, every festivity transports trepidation. Every impending call-in seizes me with consternation. I am running out of ideas to get a breakthrough. The eremitical circumstances have prevailed for too long. I have had enough of a fugitive’s life — enough to reach a breaking point.

The attempted relief work from outside has only exacerbated the situation. It’s proving to be an unwarranted source of angst. I am unable to address the essential issues because of these distractions. I have to get the monkeys off my back, even if by subterfuge. I am beginning to lose perspective on life. The same cycle has been going on for two-and-a-half years. I feel as if I were living the same day over and over again. I wonder when I will get out of the whirlpool of monotonous disquiet. 

The canvas is a mess of colours and meaningless patterns. There seems to be no tomorrow. The state appears to have reached stalemate. On the square of a vulnerable King, nigh on to be killed.

Reflections In The Mirror # 2

It all began in 2004. It was the year of endings; it was the year of beginnings. It was a period of indecision; it was a period of clarity. It was an era of mistakes; it was an era of discoveries. It was an age of wisdom; it was an age of imprudence. There was stress; there was fun. There was insecurity; there was optimism. There was novelty; there was ingenuous sense of wonder. It was an epoch of inception. It was a prelude to the memorable years to follow.

Some chronicles from or after the winter:

Straddled on the grey Suzuki, togged in grey apparel, grey helmet with black visor, carefully manoeuvring through the teeming streets, then hurtling past the stadium on a long road, sparsely transited by vehicles, en route for the Hut. Back in a nearby, undeveloped vicinity, on the empty streets, twisting the throttle generously, zooming from one end to other every bright afternoon.

The thrill of rushing in assignments at the last minute after being awake the whole night. The feeling of looking forward to pleasant things during the days of worries and austerity, followed by the relief of finishing it was invaluable. 

Walking on roads that were congenial for walking.

Going to the campus past midnight to complete unfinished errands.

Waking up on chilly Sunday mornings to watch wrestling.

The ingenuous excitement of buying a new book or DVD. 

Will 2010 be a prelude to the great years to follow?