Saaz Aggarwal on "Moving On"

By and large, Facebook has been pretty good to me and I
have met some really amazing people on this social networking
site. One of them has been the amazingly versatile, highly
prolific (she's a writer, editor and poet too) refreshingly
witty Saaz Aggarwal.

Our interactions were about this and that (and of course Hyderabadi
Biryani) and when Saaz came to know that I have a book of poems
out, she went ahead and bought it, (from Evening Hour) promised
to read it and even said she may review it for her blog.

That verdict is out and available in full
here.

I am like, YAY and Wooooo Hoooo Hoooo to see that she says...

"Anand’s poems made me smile – some for their wit, some for their
depth. The themes were mostly elemental and filled with
passion … the monsoons … rivers, lakes, hills, trees and
cloudbursts the poet had allowed to enter his consciousness and
emerge, transformed, as evocative words on paper … a word sketch
of a day-wage labourer … the knowledge that one would have to learn
history from a book rather than from a grandmother who had lived
it … and many that dealt with a broken heart."

Thank you Saaz Ji. Thank you!

Saundhi -- An Evening of Poetry

Apart from being a number of things that are food
for thought, Evening Hour is also a bookstore
(and lending library) that sells books online.
My book has been available at Evening Hour's Kukatpally
bookstore for almost 4 months now and Priyanka (who's
single-handedly taking Evening Hour places)
also tells me that it has been doing well and
attracting readers.

For as long as I remember, Priyanka has been
inviting me to interact with Evening Hour's
customers under their "Meet the Author" event.

For as long as I remember, she has also been indicating
a keen interest to organize an event specifically for poetry.

That's the setting then, for Saundhi -- An Evening of Poetry
at Evening Hour's store on 26th of June.
I will be there and in conversation with Dr. A Giridhar Rao.
Thereafter, it will be an "Open Mic" session, for poetry readings.

If you have wanted to meet me and are in Hyderabad on
Saturday do please drop by and say hello.

And yes, if you have wanted to experience the magic of
a poetry reading, or wanted to read out poetry
(by you or by anyone else) to a very receptive audience
in an informal, chilled-out atmosphere, don't miss
this "Open Mic".

Saundhi - An Evening of Poetry
When - 26th June, 2010, 6.30 pm onwards
Where - Evening Hour Store, JNTU Lane, Kukatpally, Hyderabad

Questions about "Open Mic"? Call Priyanka at 040-65873003

Know somebody who you think writes amazing poetry? Let him / her know!

A Bullet in the Rains

Among the many other things I don't manage to tell this blog
(in time) is the fact that this April my Bullet turned 8.
That is 8 years. By extension (I don't have a car, maybe
I don't really like being boxed in one, maybe I am
claustrophobic, or maybe I just don't need one) this means
that I have been riding through Hyderabad's monsoons
and enjoying getting drenched in them every year.

It's a cycle for me, you see, something that I await without really
knowing why, something that also brings out the neanderthal in me
(I like grinning up at the raining skies, I like riding through
the stinging curtains of water, I don't really mind the discomfort
or the pain of having to ride through waterlogged traffic that
moves slower than a prehistoric moraine) and I am not at all
ashamed to say that I love almost everything about the rains*.

Let me temporarily forget that last year when it rained and I got
back home (in the midst of a power cut), I had slipped on a far from
thin film of water that had "rained" in and fallen heavily onto my
behind. I am sure (rain lover or rain hater) you will excuse me for
cursing the rains (and the builder) loudly for three odd days
in that instance.

Coming back to the Bullet, I guess it is not as low maintenance as
me after all, or maybe it's the fact that I do use it, or it's the
fact that the quality of whatever goes into it as spare parts sucks
to high (rainy?) heaven. Anyway, I have changed the petrol
tank cover thrice and there is this memorable incident related
to the petrol tank cover, the Bullet (and me) and the rains that
is best related on a day like this (call me a fool later if you
want) when after getting wet the way I did yesterday, I would say
it does seem that the Monsoons have "set in" over the Deccan.
And hey, hey, hey, far earlier than last year, no?

So this was the incident then (three monsoons past, if my memory
serves me right). The petrol tank cover had gone kaput again -- was
not lockable -- and I was returning from a friend's place
having ignored his requests and remonstrances to stay back
and wait out the rain. And it was pouring away. As happens in
Hyderabad (and maybe in your city too, I wouldn't be claiming
exclusivity for this, patriot that I am) when it rains for more
than half an hour the roads look like a landscape scoured by
streams and rivulets in a hurry to go and drain into some
now non-existent friendly neighbourhood lake. So I was riding
blind not knowing if there's a speedbreaker, a pothole or
something far more dangerous ahead of me under all that water.
And then it happens, I go into some kind of depression, the
Bullet sinks fork deep in waters and by the time I am out of it,
the petrol tank cover goes flying off!

Ever tried finding something that has fallen into swirling
rain waters? Believe me, it's no easy task -- especially in
the evenings -- even if you are on your hands and knees.

But all the while I was searching for the petrol tank cover,
the Bullet was idling away, unmindful of the rain bouncing off
its chrome and lancing into its petrol tank -- for what must
have been at least 2 or 3 minutes. This incident / story had a
happy ending, I found the petrol tank cover and (I did say,
happy ending) as expected, the Bullet didn't die
on me.

So now you know. I love the rains and the Bullet does too.

And yesterday it had rained and rained and rained and
rained some more. From what I could see, no cats or dogs died,
but immaterial of that the gutters weren't much distinguishable
from the roads and the roads (thanks to the medians in between)
seemed to be stopping the waters and turning into one-way canals.
So it meant something like two hours of riding to get back home,
with some stretches (the ones on Necklace Road and near
Sanjeevaiah Park specifically ) making me feel that I am riding
on a lakebed. After all, that is what most of Necklace Road is,
isn't it?

But yes, I did have an amazing time, getting soaked to the
skin and never having to stop, even while the autos and (some) cars
around were belching smoke (inzin mein paani ghoos gaya Saab) and
getting stranded.

I guess (in my far from direct or orderly way), I am writing this
blogpost out of happiness at yesterday's experience and as tribute
to the trusted chrome-plated steed that I ride. And there seems to
have been no permanent collateral damage (apart from the cell phone
dying) to me either**!!

And oh, yeah. Speaking of the Bullet, it started at first kick
today morning again. Talk of the small joys of life.

* Scratch out riding through Punjagutta Circle, Ranigunj and Abids
Circle, even after 5 minutes of rain. Double scratch the very idea
of trying to get hold of an Auto after 30 minutes of rain. And don't
get me started on the quality (or lack) of anything close to civic /
city planning in Hyderabad when it rains.

** The "Cargo" trousers I had on yesterday should get dry by today.
My cellphone died on me and finally lit up today morning (and I had
to tell it the time for a change!!). My wallet (incidentally of
Camel leather and picked up at a roadside shop near the fort at
Jodhpur is almost dry and apart from slightly bleary eyes (paani
ghoos gaya) and a sore throat (I did seem to have drunk in some of
the rains) I am pretty much okay.

As Summer Ends

How cyclical the seasons are and how independent of our concepts of time (days, months, years) pains and sufferings too. We are 9 days into the June of a blazing, in many ways vitriolic, almost "out of Dante's inferno" summer. And yet, it seems respite (in keeping with it's own cyclical timing) is here. Science (or rather the newspapers and the TV Channels quoting the Met Office) tells us that the Monsoons are already here, that they will be average (but for a shortfall here or there) this year.

And though a part of me is guarding against getting excited or happy or relieved too early (after all, the last edition of the monsoons over the Deccan was so fickle-natured it left me "Unslept") this year it seems the rains will come on time.

Why do I say this? On what authority?

For one, it has blazed so much all this summer that it seems any more heat would be against the laws of nature (Global Warming be damned).

For another, it has been "clouds floating in a sea blue sky" kind of views for most of the last week or so, and those clouds seem to be packing up now and today was positively overcast.

For yet another, its been amazing cycling weather for the last two days (at least where I live, in between NH7 and SH1) and yes, I have been out cycling and even spotting a bit of wildlife here and there in the wilds around my place (this will need some explanation, maybe later). While on the cycle, for some reasons I get to either blank out my mind or focus it; in comparison, when on the Bullet, my being is in ferment with a continuous stream of thoughts, almost as madcap as Hyderabad's traffic.

And yes, for yet another, it rained a bit (and gusted a lot) yesterday evening. And no, I don't think it was summer rain. Though there has been quite a lot of it here. Because, yesterday evening it smelt different, there was a promise in the fragrance of the breeze. How do I explain that in English?

Saundhi, it was, the smell of rain on parched earth.

So, on the basis of the available evidence, I pronounce this the end of summer.

Amen.

Calling the Rains

Islands white
in a sea blue sky
clouds stay
like inkwells
feeding memories
wet with aquamarine
and a thirst for rain
O, that I could be
a tree dancing in glee
my leaves like windswept hair
breezing
breathless with song

To a nameless hill near Thotlakonda

The moment sat between us
like a table clothed
by a listless sky,
sea water turns
this empty beach into glass
reflecting your wilderness
like some past;
of your eagle eyries
and wild palms
soon there will be no history
as tourists drive up you
for a hotel with a view
unknowing, child-like
the seas of time will
still swish in, to take away
whatever remains
of the silences
that were once simply wild.